Work Text:
It's a warm Saturday. Exams are finally done with, meaning that even the strictest of teachers don't have much work left to give out. This leaves the majority of the boys in Welton running around outside, chatting and laughing and threatening to push each other into the lake.
Charlie and Knox stand face-to-face underneath a large tree, dueling each other with large paper swords. Cameron stands in the middle, 'judging' the tournament, which has since turned into him cheering Knox on with cries of "stop dodging, Dalton!" Not far away, Meeks and Pitts are sat in the grass, radio between them, debating whether or not it's possible to get stations from further away.
"Thou speakest aright! I am that merry wanderer of the night!"
Neil, meanwhile, sits in the window seat of his dorm room, alone. There's a blanket wrapped tightly around him, the combination with the warmth of the sunny day making him sweat. His hair falls over his eyes, pushed back just enough that he can still read.
In his hands, he's clutching a beaten-up copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream tightly. The cover proudly proclaims that it's the Dover Thrift Edition. His desk features a stack of copies, however, including the Folger Shakespeare Library's, the Signet Classic's, the Washington Square Press Drama's, the No Fear Shakespeare's, the Sparknote's, and a copy told through texting and emojis (A Midsummer Night #NoFilter).
He's started collecting different copies from Goodwills and the like, though he's not really sure why. There's just something so... Great. About how each version is just a little bit different, in the way they transcribe the dialogue, describe the characters, and the way they introduce Shakespeare in general. He's read about 15 different Forwards, describing Shakespeare in increasingly different manners, and he loves all of it.
"Thou speakest aright!"
Aright! What a great word. It's just so... So... He doesn't know what it is, just that it's something special. He fidgets with the corner of the page, reading the sentence again. It's Puck's introduction. He's been on this page for a few minutes now, reading it again and again.
"Thou speakest aright," He whispers to the room, and he feels himself freeze up in an excited sort of way. "Thou speakest aright." He jerks his head to the left, and digs his nails into his palm.
"Thou speakest aright!" His eyes squeeze shut as his head jerks again. He wrings his hands once, twice, experimentally. Then:
"Thou speakest aright!" He closes his eyes again and flaps his hands. His eyes fly open again, wide and alert. He's smiling wide. His hands now hang loosely at his sides, still warm and buzzing just slightly from being shaken. He lets out a quiet hum and rocks a bit, glancing out the window. The sun catches his eyes and he lifts his chin higher, letting the warm light settle across his face.
He brings the blanket up further, weighing down his chest, and continues to read.
"And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh; and waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear- a merrier hour was never wasted there."
He shakes his head side to side, bangs flopping over his face. He grins, pushing them back and returning to the book.
"But room, fairy! Here comes Oberon."
There's a footnote beside the word "quire", simply reading- "company". Neil, however, read that the word is an older spelling of the word "choir". Even though it doesn't change the meaning of the sentence much, he takes quite a bit of pride in knowing it.
The door creaks open and Neil looks up to see Todd coming in. Neil waves, and Todd waves in reply.
"Can I sit with you?"
Neil nods.
Todd squeezes into the window seat, and Neil untangles himself from the blanket to pull it over the both of them. Todd wriggles close, resting his head on Neil's chest. "You reading Midsummer again?"
"Mm-hm!"
Todd looks up, catching the spark in his eyes. "What part are you on," He says gently. Neil smiles wide, recognizing the invitation to infodump.
"Puck's introduction. So, you know how he talks about how much fun he has pranking and joking with people? And here-" He says quickly, pointing to the page, "Puck says, 'the whole quire hold their hips and laugh'. And here, it just tells you quire means company, and it does, in this context, mostly, but it's actually a 15th century spelling of the word choir!" He hums, grinning widely.
"Puck isn't performing for a literal church choir, then," Todd says with a teasing smile.
"No," Neil chuckles, "Not a literal church choir."
Todd nuzzles into Neil. "You know, George Eliot compares dying to 'joining the choir invisible'. It's just a figure of speech there, too, but later in the poem, the dead are described as making 'undying music'. And she ends the piece by saying their music is 'the gladness of the world'."
Neil nods along. "She?"
"Uh-huh. Her real name was Mary Ann Evans, but she used the pen name George Eliot so she could write about more harrowing topics, since most women in the Victorian period were only supposed to write about things like romance."
"Assholes," Neil says.
"Fucking assholes," Todd agrees, tapping his fingers on his knee.
"So, did she write about death for the most part?"
"She wrote about a lot of psychological stuff in general. She was known for the way she described setting, too. Most of her work was set in the English countryside, since that was where she came from."
Neil nods, looking at Todd expectantly. Todd takes the opportunity to continue eagerly.
"She was actually known for her novels more than her poetry, though. Like Middlemarch- it was this multi-volume story that talked about all kinds of relevant issues, like religion and education and the role of women within marriages. Oh! And one of the main themes was reformation in politics, since this was when the 1832 Reform Act was happening. It's really well-regarded. Virginia Woolf is even known for calling it 'one of the few English novels written for grown-up people'."
Neil and Todd both chuckle at that, Todd leaning closer to Neil and blinking his eyes rapidly. Neil smiles at him, wrapping his arms around him and laying his head on top of Todd's.
"Tired?"
Neil hums in reply. " 'M c'mfy."
Todd closes his eyes. "Me too." He tucks the blanket tighter around them, and the book slips from Neil's grip, forgotten, as they doze off, sun shining down on the both of them.