Chapter Text
Todd was 16 when he started at Welton, senior year. He had a late birthday, it always bugged him that while most people were 17 going on 18, he’d have to wait until November for that. He wouldn’t be 18 until half way through his first year at Uni.
He could barely remember his first day now, way too old for that, but moments stuck out. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined them or if they’d really happened, but he smiled thinking about them anyway. Thinking about Charlie and his bucket of crude jokes, Cameron helping him with his math without making him feel like an idiot, Meeks and Pitts’ radio blaring through the common room, Knox and his wide array of girlfriends that he was convinced each time would be the one. They never were until about 6 years ago, he’s married now. And Neil, always Neil, though he tried very hard not to think about him.
He hated himself for it at first, Neil deserved to be remembered, but he couldn’t stand thinking about it, about him. The cut was too fresh, the memories too close, the ache too strong. It took a few months before he could even look in the direction of that damned empty bed without his eyes burning. He hadn’t had the chance to keep anything of Neil’s, except he’d stolen the script off of Neil’s desk before Mr. Perry had arrived to clear out the room himself. He didn’t send someone else, which surprised Todd. He hadn’t stayed to watch though, of course not, he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as that man. The fury and hurt would ripple through his veins all at once, it sort of scared him. He knew it was his fault, and at the time he couldn’t process the fact that the man had lost a son, despite what he did. Now, he was a bit more somber to it all. Mr. Perry too wasn’t alive anymore.
He hadn’t been invited to the funeral, Charlie had though, he wouldn't go.
Todd didn’t like to think about all that, so he immersed himself in school and got 2 part time jobs. He can’t think about things if he literally did not have time (though his dark circles will disagree). And then he met James, when he was 27 and so burnt out for someone so young. He felt like a candle that had been snuffed out by a finger, with barely a flicker still burning. He didn’t write much anymore. He didn’t think about how disappointed Neil would be at that. He worked at a bank, 4pm-12am was a terrible shift, but he had a job at the coffee shop next door from 11:30pm-3:30pm. He was tired all the time. And that absolutely would’ve continued if he hadn’t met James, who almost forced him out of the rut with a gentle hand. Todd still marvels at how he did it.
James Seamore was taller than him, about Neil’s height (though he immediately told himself off when he thought that, he shouldn’t be comparing all the men in his life to Neil, that was deeply unfair.), he used to order coffee at Todd’s first job every single day at exactly 2pm. They never talked besides the transaction, after a few months Todd stopped asking for his order and just left the coffee on his table. Sometimes, he left a complimentary scone. And even less times, he sat down with him. They didn’t talk a lot then too, Todd didn’t want to, instead he read and James typed.
And then one day James kissed him, and Todd kissed back, and he threw up as soon as James left. And then he cried, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. No, that’s a lie, he could. He felt like he was betraying Neil somehow. Neil who had been dead for 10 years. That’s insane isn’t it? Yes, obviously, it is. It was stupid, and silly, 10 years. The worst part was that that was the day Neil Perry should’ve turned 27 years old. So, instead of getting excited about this whole new prospect and child-like romance, he went to his grave and sobbed and apologised.
For what? Neil’s voice would say in his head, Moving on? I’d be happy for you, idiot. Go home and call him.
He didn’t call him, he absolutely avoided him.
It didn’t work, 5 years later he was packing up to move in with him. He wasn’t a lot like Neil, but he had the same boyish attitude. His eyes were a bright blue, very different to Neil’s. He couldn’t remember the shade of Neil’s eyes, he didn’t think about that either. He clenches his jaw when he gets sad, Neil used to squeeze his eyes shut. He doesn’t like to be all that physical, touching all the time or holding hands constantly, and Todd didn’t like that either. He felt claustrophobic usually, except Neil always needed to be touching him somehow. He didn’t mind it back then. No, James was nothing like Neil, which is why it scared Todd that he liked him so much.
He liked his dimples, and the way he sang terribly off-key all the time, he liked how obsessed he was with disney movies, and how his hair irritated his eyes. He liked that he always bought Todd flowers before every date, and he got emotional over the stupidest things. He liked the pet fish he was oddly protective over, and he liked the way his lips tasted. He liked that James always accompanied him to Neil’s grave, and bought 2 roses. One to leave at the grave, and one to give to Todd. See, you two are matching, he would say.
He never got threatened or irritated or jealous when Todd cried about Neil, even though it’s been so long. Then again, who would get jealous over a dead man? If that wasn’t a red flag, lord knows what is.
So now, at 27, Todd finally gave in and moved in with him. He was packing up his apartment, waiting for James to show up to help. He had just a little more to go, he was going through a stack of books to see which ones he wanted to keep and which he could donate.
He was at the last book when an array of papers, very yellowed and barely staying together with the staple, fell out. Todd frowned, bending down to pick it up. He didn’t remember anything about putting paper in there. He turned it over, and his knees almost gave out when he realized what it was. There, in fancy letters, was Neil’s script from all those years ago.
A Midsummer Night's Dream
And under it, haphazardly in handwriting he could never forget was ‘ (Neil’s Copy!) ’. Todd thought his heart might give out, he sat down on the floor. There was nowhere else, the couches and chairs had been donated or moved to James’ anyway. He flipped it over to the last page, and at the very bottom in the same handwriting were the same words he’d traced over and over every night before he fell asleep for the first year or so.
God, I can’t wait for Todd to see me up there