Work Text:
I was sitting at the desk. The old clock just chimed twelve times – it was midnight. I didn't switch on the lamp, I couldn't, the only source of light I could bear was the cold silver glow given by the crescent of the moon. I was holding a pen in my hand meaning to write another poem.
"Come on, Todd" – I whispered to myself, shutting my eyes mightily and clenching my fists, letting a pattern of red lines appear visibly on the thin, greyish skin. – "Just put the idea onto the paper. It isn't that difficult".
Another deep breath. A quick thought, brief thought, crossed my mind. – 'Neill would have loved the moon tonight. He loved the moon so much'. No longer later the first words appeared on the paper, glimmering slightly as the black ink hasn't managed to dry yet.
Suddenly all the memories and all the causes I was sitting here, alone, embittered, just terribly and overwhelmingly famous, hit me like an avalanche. I regret it wasn't a real avalanche. It would have helped my wonderful situation so much. It all started thanks to, or maybe simply because of Mr. Keating and his poetry. What even was poetry? I remember when he asked a similar question in our first lesson and I remember the answer even better. He told us poetry was a way to woo women. What I remember too, is that I immediately knew it was complete and utter bullshit. Poetry isn't a way to woo women, poetry is a way to wail over men; one man in particular; a man of my heart, Neil. And though I have been using it in another way those days when he was still alive, I have always been using it for the same reason.
Mr. Keating wasn't the only one. All of them, my late friends, Charlie, Knox, Meeks – God, for how long haven't I heard those names – Pitts, Cameron… They left me. Not willingly of course, I was aware of it, but it wasn't enough for me to forgive them, not to resent them. From what I knew, they ended up as tragically as I did, all famous, all rich and all in solitude. Only Charlie had been sending me some letters in which he described in great detail how his life had been going and how tiring it is to be on a never-ending road (Charlie was a saxophone player), but I received the last one two months ago and since then I haven't heard from anyone. There was an article in a newspaper about Meeks and Pitts last week. It said they got married and became inventors. I suppose they won a prestigious prize and that's why the article was written. Good for them, I guess. Cameron started teaching mathematics at Oxford. And Knox? He stars on TV, I watch his stupid programme sometimes. He helps people find love or some other illusion.
Nevertheless, thinking of them enlarged the already huge emptiness I felt on a daily basis, the strange mix of hopelessness and longing, with a pinch of anger and disappointment.
Neil, on the other hand, left me only with longing. Yearning. I looked down on my parchment just in order to spot a small lake of tears mingling with blackness of illegible yet letters. There where earlier appeared "For Neil", now were swirls and wetness. I realised, ironically, that the current state resembled the content of my heart much better than the former.
"Neil, Neil, Neil… What have you done to me?" – I put my elbows on the desk and buried my face in my hands, those hands which burned at the mere thought that they had been once touched by the other boy. I moved the hands further, now gripping at my hair, imagining he does it instead. – "Why did I ignore your signs? Why didn't I catch them, why?" – I cried into the darkness. Only wind, whistling in the chinks of a window, answered my answerless question.
I wondered what happened to that little, anxious kid I used to be. What happened to the boy that fell in love with you, Neil? I deluded that I could make you happy, but now I understand I couldn't have, because happiness just wasn't written into your fate. Callous Moirai. They always despise the best people, don't they?
One conversation is imprinted in my memory better than other. It took place a week before your final act, not only on the theatre scene but also in life. Or maybe the second was a theatre scene too, just more vast? Nevermind.
Your father visited Welton that evening and I heard you arguing. I knew you had never had an easy life, you had told me before. Disgraced since the very beginning, brought up to become a doctor, that was you, Neil.
– "You and your idiotic rules, father! I have one of the best grades in my year, I won't resign from what I love only because you say so!" – You were shouting but your voice was trembling. Something knocked on the door.
– "I am not in a mood for a discussion, son." – A harsh bark replied. – "You are not an actor and you know it. It's just a temporary figment. You are a doctor." – A moment of silence. – "You are not allowed to look at me this way, is this understandable? And do not even try to cry. You are a grown-up man, not some teenage girl"
The sound of footsteps began to descend and you came back to our room. You flung onto your bed and gulped saliva.
– He doesn't want to listen to me. He never will. – A tear formed in the corner of your eye, but you wiped it just before it managed to run like a stream down your face. – I would like to become a doctor, I really would. But acting… Oh, Toddie, you know how I love acting!
I bit my upper lip, drawing a breath before I spoke.
– I know, Neil.
I was keeping my head low with eyes glued to the floor. Looking at Neil in such a state has been something I couldn't bear. I heard continuous sobbing and already imagined what must have been happening in that poor boy's head. That wasn't the only time he was crying, quite on the contrary. I pretended I wasn't aware of it, but in reality, each night was like taking part in some tragic concert.
– May I... – he didn't finish the sentence, but it wasn't necessary. I knew best what he wanted to ask.
– Su–sure. – I became all red and started to fiddle with my fingers. – Come.
– Thank you.
We were sitting in a silence for God knows how long. Two boys next to each other; neither expressing his feelings but both fighting a crucial battle nevertheless.
– Shall we lay down? – Neil asked. I bit my lip again, but I accepted.
Our faces were closer than ever and we were staring into one another's eyes. I have always dreamed of a moment of that kind, although being now in this situation was much less magical than in my imagination. It was supposed to be a happy moment. Instead Neil and I ended up crashed in pieces.
I felt a hand searching blindly for mine, so not waiting a minute I slipped my palm into his hold.
– Todd, you have to listen to me attentively now, okay? – Neil whispered, slightly squishing my hand. – Time comes for us all, you understand.
– What are you talking about? – I started hyperventilating. – Neil! – I cupped his cheek with the second palm.
– I can't, I can't be who they want me to be. If they don't see any other option, I'll have to resolve it using my own method. I'm sorry it has to end this way.
– Neil… Don't tell me… Are you saying what I think you are saying? – My eyes became as glassy as his. I felt a strange tightness in my chest, located near my heart. It couldn't be the truth.
– I must be stronger in order to win with them. With my dad, with Mr. Nolan. But you can't get stronger... You can't be strong in the dark. – He sighed and squished my hand one more time. – You'll understand, my little poet.
– Your world is too dark to practice?
He nodded.
– Is this… – I began – Are you sure it's the only road you can take to reach tranquility? The only source of light?– The question hung in the thick air for a few seconds, before I was given a response.
– Actually – I saw Neil blushing from behind the wall of tears he had created. – There is another. It's lighter than the former, but even it isn't bright enough to bring eternal joy to the daunting complexity of my life.
He was good with words. He has always been. But the moment the true meaning behind those lines hit me, my world became demolished in one second. Was he honestly considering doing it? I knew, I was certain, I had to stop him. The selfishness made me think that killing himself, Neil would kill not one person, but two, as my whole identity, so much dependent on his presence, would get killed as well.
– What is this light, Neil, tell me. – I escaped from the hold of his hand and hugged him tightly, burying my face in the warm material of his jumper, not in order to not look him in the eyes, but in order to feel close to him, one last time, if all he said would happen to be fulfilled. – I will do anything for this light to lead you out of this dark valley. I will save you. Just tell me how. – I mumbled.
I felt Neil adjusting to my hug. Hot tear dropped on my cheek.
– You have done enough. – His voice broke. A gulp. Is this hesitation? – You have already saved me a million times, maybe unknowingly, but you have. Only you encouraged me when I said I wanted to act, remember? Our rehearsals at the lake; I was shouting my lines and you read the rest. We were happy, Todd.
– Stop, please. – I said. He needn't have reminded me, that made everything worse.
– No, no, let me finish. That light… that one that still keeps me there... Uh, it will sound cheesy but listen. I find this light in you – in your smile, in your warmth, behind the always frightened gaze of your eyes.
Another muffled sound came from where I was hidden:
– So why do you want to go?
– You are my lantern, but it doesn't matter since I'm drowning. – He… Did he chuckle? – Don't you see? I'm failing horribly. There is always a winner and a loser.
I lifted my head from his chest and forced myself to look him in the face. It seemed nearly divine, clear and alabaster now the sun set and the moon appeared in the sky.
– You don't have to be the latter. I… You are my light too. Don't let them take it. – I was surprised that a confession of that kind came out of my mouth. But this was a life-and-death situation. Literally.
– Promise not to cry. – I heard Neil almost beg for the first time in my life. – You must be strong, even stronger when… when I'm gone, okay?
– Neil… – Hypocritically, I was on the edge of tears.
– Todd. – No one earlier or later said my name with such an amount of emotion. It contained everything. Grief, infirmity, farewell and most importantly love. The love we didn't have a chance to make use of. The love that was born tonight and tonight was to die.
– Can I read an elegy on your funeral? – I asked in the last act of desperation. – It would feel like a lullaby. A song I would sing you to sleep. Please. – I added after he kept silent for a while.
– My… funeral. – Neil's gaze seemed terribly, unhumanly distant. Was this only my imagination or did he already start to become a preternatural being?; a sculpture of misty moonlight and tense darkness, which resembled some specific kind of marble instead of skin and flesh. The illusion lasted for a few seconds, until he started talking again, therefore reconnecting his soul with his body. – I've never considered my funeral. – He said. – It scares me, if I were to be honest. I cannot imagine anything after, whether here, on earth, or somewhere else.
– Then why do that? – Now was I blubbering, unable to control the sudden tide of pity. Neil's fright showed the whole situation in an even more tragic light.
Having processed the question, the boy freezed for a moment, like a deer, which stands in the middle of a street and is not fully aware that the car is going to run over it. Open mouth were a sign that he wanted to answer, but either wasn't able to find a proper response or a response was too dreadful to be spoken out loud.
– I… – He started.
– You can vent to me, you know it, whenever you need. – I encouraged him.
– You won't understand it, just like them.
– I'll do my best, I promise, only tell me.
He sighed heavily and hugged me tighter than ever before. I was caressing his back, while he buried his chin in my shoulder. We were two perfectly fitting pieces.
– They have never let me decide for myself. Never. Could you imagine. Even now I am not sure if the former decision to become a doctor was my own or theirs, having been carefully ingrained in my mind since my very childhood. When I discovered my passion for the theatre though, I vowed to myself I would not let them lead me for any longer. But they are too strong, I'm too attached to their opinions. Maybe that's what created my acting abilities – always pretending to feel what they expected me to feel, to be who they expected me to be. I have never been me.
– Never? – I frowned. – Are you sure all of your life was a lie?
– There were rare moments. – A painful grimace appeared on his face and he grabbed my hand again. – One when I was with you and one when I played. But they won't accept either of these, I know it.
I didn't say anything. I would say my heart was bleeding, but it's not enough to show how torn up his monologue left me. He was a hero of the romantic kind. People have been killing themselves for more trivial reasons. I marvelled at the fact that he survived so long.
– I will never forgive them. – I whispered, looking into those beautiful, but teary eyes of Neil. I felt a sudden urge to grab his face and, I still don't know where I found enough courage, I did it. Only us and our breaths, none of which regular.
– They are unforgiven. – Neil agreed.
Then we kissed. It wasn't long and romantic, as in all those movies. Sincerely, I don't quite remember it. The only thing I can recall is my want to not ever stop this. Not only because it felt warm, not because I dreamt about it for so much time, but because I was scared that if I let him go now, I will let him go forever.
The following memories were too harmful. I gasped and took my pen again. Four black lines appeared on the paper:
"You failed and lost this fight
But never fade in the dark
Just remember
You will always burn as bright"