Work Text:
"No."
He mouthed the words over slowly as if it would taste any different on his lips.
It didn't. Though it had hardened up like honey after idle months, it maintained the same sweet taste on Todd's lips as it had when it came from Neil's. There was no secret ingredient that would make itself known to him after weeks of dwelling, and if there were, its contents had sunk to the bottom of the jar long ago.
Not a day went by that it didn't force its way back into Todd's mind, followed by an irritating lack of clarity. There was no way to interpret this single word's meaning, even with context, no way to read between narrow lines.
For all Keating boasted about 'considering what you think,' this time, the author's intention was paramount.
What does a deliberate then, once more, cheeky "no" mean coming from a boy who looms over you with inescapably earnest eyes, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see the beautiful brown of it anymore? No, you can't take care of yourself?
Todd could take care of himself perfectly fine. Did Neil seriously not believe that?
A part of himself must have, or else he would have sent the desk set flying off the building himself. Just because Neil whispered the ploy into his ear like a snake in a garden did not mean Todd couldn't think or do anything for himself. Just because he spent his entire life — a life that was so much better having Neil in it — following the lead of other people did not mean he had no autonomy over himself.
"No."
As much as that one, simple word had become the object of his torment with all its subtext and implications, Todd wanted nothing more than for Neil to say it again.
"Trig, at this time of day?"
Todd's attention snapped up from his notebook, where he had been staring at half-finished trigonometry problems, bleary-eyed and unseeing. "Jesus, Neil, don't sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry," Neil grinned, looking not at all remorseful. He didn't mention that Todd was sitting on his bed — the very place Todd seated himself as he watched Neil type up the letter 'from' his father — and Todd was hardly going to be the first to do so. "Here, look at this."
Without warning, a hardy navy book fell into his lap. Tentatively, Todd opened it to where someone had placed a crudely folded Latin worksheet between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. His brow knitted questioningly, "Orestes?"
"Yes! It's a play about Orestes after he ki—"
"I know of it," Todd murmured gently. He squinted at the hardcover, noting its wear, "This looks old; did Keating give it to you?" Neil nodded quickly with the same gleam to his eyes that he had when he had first told him about A Midsummer Night's Dream. "Why?"
Neil's grin brightened. "Ginny was telling me about this memorization method. See," he crouched before the bed, running his fingers along the worn edges of the book, his features relaxing into temperate fascination, "if you read through the scene and know where you end, you'll know where to begin. It's supposed to help with blocking and tone. I've already read it through, and I was hoping..." Neil peered back up at him with those fervent eyes before he broke his inconspicuous character and cracked a smile, "my favorite scene partner would help me test it out?"
A part of him felt like there was something Neil wasn't telling him, like he was coaxing him into a game he didn't know all the rules to. His throat seared with the uneasy feeling. He nodded quickly, "Yeah, uh, sure. I'll help."
For a hair-raising moment, Neil's doe eyes lingered on him, and Todd's pace quickened with the fear that he had misunderstood what Neil had meant, that he was alluding to someone else, and he had just assumed—
"You are a saint, Todd Anderson," Neil let out a relieved sigh, and Todd almost mirrored him, pushing his hands off the bed. "You read for Orestes; I'll be Pylades."
Todd fleetingly scanned the page, his eyes settling on a line while Neil composed himself for his role. "You worm," he read monotonously, "What good are you? You'll make war for a woman, but not your own kin? You'll turn your back on me now that Adamemmon's cause is finished? Father, we are friendless after all. Betrayed. No hope. This man was my exit strategy.
"Oh," the corners of his lips quivered upwards as Neil tore his blanket off the bed, fastening it around his shoulder to his waist in true dramatic fashion. "But look, here comes Pylades, my dearest friend, a sight as sweet as calm water to sailors."
Neil turned back to face him, and suddenly, his handsome face was serious, dashing over to kneel before the bed, "I raced through the town as I heard of the citizen assembly. I saw it too." He glanced behind him urgently, "They mean to kill you and your sister." Neil took Todd's hands in his, staring up at him with big, fretful eyes, "What's going on? How are you faring — dearest, sweetest, best of friends — you know you are all these to me."
Heart in his throat, Todd tried not to stare too much or let his mind short-circuit at the warmth enveloping his hands. This was commonplace for Neil: casual, friendly touches; he couldn't very well help it that Neil was so good at acting, so fitting for this role, the concern radiating off him felt real.
He tried focusing on the book in his lap instead. "Our— Our cause is lost. I'll tell you briefly."
Neil straightened up, "Then I too am lost. Friends share such things."
"Menelaos is no good."
"Not surprising," Neil humoured, "Look at his wife."
"No use to me at all."
Todd tried to shrink away, but before he could, Neil's gaze was on him again, "He's actually here?"
"Yes," Todd whispered, eyes dropping to the verses below him and continuing more soundly, "he's finally back. But he's just no help."
"And has he shipped home his profligate wife?"
"Oh I think she runs the ship."
Neil barked out a laugh, a smirk curling at his lips, and Todd wondered fleetingly whether it was Neil or Pylades talking, "Where is she, that weapon of mass destruction?"
"In my house — if you can call it mine," Todd read, shrugging shortly.
"What did you ask of Menelaos?"
"To save me from stoning, me and my sister."
"God!" Neil rose abruptly, his warm hands slipping away to pinch the bridge of his nose. He exhaled loudly, glancing back down, "What did he say?"
Todd couldn't contain his snort of admiration. “He got very cautious, as friends do.”
"On what pretext?"
"Well, Tyndareus came along.”
"In a rage about his daughter?"
"You got it. Menelaos took his side."
"Scared to shoulder your burden?" Neil supplied dubiously.
"Never was much of a warrior." Todd continued mutely, "Except with women."
"It looks bad for you."
"The citizens are casting a vote."
Neil's voice cracked, "Vote?"
"Life or death."
Neil stared at him heavily, as if it were Todd’s life on the line and not the fated Orestes. Suddenly, Neil took hold of his hands again, trying to tug him up, "Well, let's get out of here!"
"We're surrounded—" Todd's eyes darted, genuinely alarmed, down to the book slipping from his lap, praying that he didn't lose the page and disrupt Neil's roll, "—guards on every road."
"Yes," Neil stopped thoughtfully, and Todd almost let out a sigh of relief, "I noticed the streets are blocked with weapons."
"Our house is beset like a town under siege," Todd read, carefully elbowing the book off of him and onto the bed.
Neil's eyes searched the floorboards vacantly, quieter than before. "The fact is, I'm ruined too."
Todd glanced up, "How?"
Neil's eyes refused to meet his, and he stepped away. "My father drove me out of the house."
Did Neil mean for his voice to break?
"On what charge?"
"That I joined in your mother's murder and am unholy."
Todd slowly moved to retrieve the book from the bed, "O poor man. My troubles are really your troubles it seems."
"But I'm no Menelaos," Neil replied with a soft, reassuring smile that won Todd over, "I can bear this."
Todd couldn't stop his lips from gently quirking up in response. He quickly searched the page for his next line, "Uh, you don't fear the Argives?"
"The Argives are not my people," Neil delivered earnestly.
"A mob is a terrible thing when its leaders are corrupt."
"But if the leaders are honest, decent deliberations can occur," Neil pointed out.
"What do you say we make a joint plan then?"
"Starting how?"
Todd read, "Starting with me going to the Argive assembly to tell them—"
"That your actions were just—"
"—In avenging my father—"
"And although they are eager to seize you—"
"—I won't cower in silence and die—"
"That would be craven!"
Neil had always amazed him with how easily he could remember his lines, especially in the face of someone talking over him. Even reading directly from the page, Todd found himself rushing, stumbling out of disorientation, trying to separate his voice from Neil's proud reciting, never missing a cue.
"So what should I do?"
"Any chance of staying safe here?"
Nose practically stuffed in the book, Todd shook his head, "No, none."
"And if you flee?"
"Maybe, with luck."
"Well, it's better than staying."
"So I should go?"
"At least your death won't be dishonorable."
"Right. I'll avoid looking like a coward—"
"More than if you stay," Neil cautioned lowly.
"Besides, my cause is just."
"Pray that they see this."
"And people might pity me—" Todd mused, his comfort with the role growing.
"After all, you are of noble blood!"
"And indignant at my father's death."
Neil shrugged puckishly, "Obviously."
"I must go. Unmanly to die here."
Neil's eyes glimmered at him, pausing as if taking in his words, the assuredness of his delivery. "I agree."
Todd paused, feeling it to be right for the scene. "Should I tell my sister?"
"No, for god's sake!" Past the crinkle of his nose, Neil appeared approving of the call.
"There would certainly be tears," Todd thought.
"A very bad omen."
"Surely silence is better."
"You'll save time," Neil said solemnly.
Todd turned, book spine laid flat in his palm as he read, "One last worry—"
Neil glanced up, curious and willing, "What?"
"These ghastly goddesses — they'll send my wits astray."
Neil gazed back at him with wide, earnest eyes, taking a calculated step forward. And suddenly, Todd was back on his bed as one soft, haunting word escaped Neil's lips — no, it didn't escape; the silence that preceded it ensured its deliberate delivery. Now, he stood with his back to their window, rays illuminating sun-dew orange onto Neil's carved face as he intently asserted, "I'll take care of you."
Todd swallowed, so trapped in Neil's gaze, he could barely glance back at the script in his hand. "It's rotten work."
Neil shook his head softly, "Not to me. Not if it's you."
They stared at each other, for a long, difficult moment. It felt like something had been declared that wasn't simply the words on the page, something that had been said before but just now realised. Neil didn't do what Todd thought he would: glance down at the book then back at him, a silent reminder they were still line reading. He just continued to watch him, curiously, perhaps more knowingly than Todd thought he'd ever feel.
He didn't know what it was that Neil had said, but he would sure like to know.
After perhaps a beat too long, Todd remembered where he was. He scanned the page desperately to find his place, an out. "Beware the contagion of madness."
And then a warm hand clasped his shoulder, searing through his sweater. Neil almost looked amused at his surprise before an intense seriousness took its place on his face, "Come now."
"You won't shrink back?" Todd croaked, clearing his throat into his fist.
Neil shook his head, and the hand on his shoulder trailed up to gently hook the back of his neck, "A friend does not shrink back."
Todd switched hands, rubbing the sweaty palm that had been holding the book on his pants leg. "Let's go."
"Let's go," Neil concurred, and Todd felt a gentle pressure against his back, alerting him to follow Neil's path to the door.
His heart thumped mightily in his chest cavity, blood pumping in his ears. The curtains were closing, the scene ending, and yet, something unresolved hung heavy in the air.
Todd's shoes squeaked against the floor as he stopped, clasping Neil's arm with his free hand, "Take me to my father's tomb."
Neil blinked, "Why?"
"So I can pray for him to save us."
"Yes," Neil pondered, once again Pylades, "that would be proper."
"My mother's tomb—" heat spread across Todd's skin like wildfire, "I will not look at it."
"No, she was your enemy," Neil replied considerately. His eyes searched the ceiling, recalling the next lines, "Okay, let's hurry, in case the Argives are voting. Lean on me," and Todd did, inadvertently leaning into Neil's side the way he did in the cave or when Neil perched himself on his shoulder. Neil tossed an arm over his shoulder, "I'll bring you through town, through the crowd, I see no shame in it. How else would I act? I am your friend!"
"There's an old saying—" Todd recited, closing the book, "a good friend is worth ten thousand relatives."
Neil's face split into a wide grin, tapping him excitedly, "That was brilliant, Todd! See, this is why you're my favorite scene partner."
A shy smile slipped onto Todd's face. His pulse continued to hammer; Neil said something about poking in on Charlie, but before he could step out the door, Todd blurted out, "Neil—?" Neil glanced back at him. "Why Orestes?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you— uh, why did you have me read for Orestes?" Todd tried, fidgeting with his sleeve. "Puck's easily the most important role in your play, and Orestes is the main character of this, so he should have the most lines to memorize... Shouldn't you have read for Orestes?"
"It's just an exercise," Neil shrugged reassuringly. But there was something behind his eyes, like whenever Charlie and Knox tried to coax him into speaking his mind about his father and Neil couldn't will the truth out of his throat, so he backtracked, controlled the damage about to ensue. "It's not like I'll be playing Pylades up there."
Todd nodded silently, searching for something more to say while he still had Neil's attention, before the moment ended, never to come again. "I remember that scene," he thought. "I read a different interpretation once."
Neil tilted his head, the deep brown of his eyes looking warm and open, "Tell me about it."
Gently tossing the book onto the bed, Todd considered it before reciting carefully, "Well, I will take care of you."
As if the line alone had struck a chord with him, Neil stepped gracefully back into the room, recounting, "It is disgusting to touch a sick man."
"Not for me to touch you," Todd echoed softly.
There was a sincere smile on Neil's face as he cautioned, "Take care that you don't catch my madness."
"Let's hope it is not you who catches mine."
Neil smiled affectedly, "I don't recall that line. Well, never mind," he reached over to snag the book back, "It's been a while since I've read that version anyway. I'm surprised I remembered that much."
"I'm not," Todd said suddenly.
Neil stared back at him, lips parted into the softest gape, his pupils dilating in an oddly beautiful yet terrifying way, filled with admiration and pride and—
Oh.
Oh.
Neil's lips pulled into an affectionate smile, "Understand now?"
He felt his heart race for an entirely different reason.
"Yes," Todd breathed. He nodded feverishly, "Yes."
It was 'No.' Not 'No, you can't take care of yourself. I won't let you.' It was 'No, you don't have to do it alone. Let me.'
"Good." And Neil grinned, puckishly as he did, and leaned in close, "Let's go save Charlie from Cam."
Todd managed to get a breathless, enamoured laugh and an, "Are you sure it's not the other way around?" out before Neil tugged him out the door.