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It was snowing. Todd had never much liked the snow. He didn't like the cold. He liked being able to wear sweaters comfortably if he wanted to, not having to wear sweaters so that he didn't get hypothermia. Wearing four layers was, to him, a nuisance. And, even after all of those layers, he was always still cold. Neil liked to make fun of him, which Todd did not find amusing. Neil had to have been cold-blooded or something because while Todd was shoving his fingers into a second pair of gloves, Neil was throwing on a single light jacket and calling it a day. The worst part about that all was, it was Todd shivering in the end, not Neil.
And now it was snowing. A lot. It had been snowing for the past few hours, and Todd had sat by a window in the library, freezing but refusing to move because he quite liked watching the snowfall. He found that there was always a poem hidden in between the flurries of snow and frost, and if he watched long enough he could find it. The only problem was that, by the time he found the poem, his fingers were often too numb from cold to write it down.
“How much are they calling for?” Todd jumps, the pencil he was holding falling from his loose grip. He looks up to see his roommate standing in front of him, hands on his hips. Todd shrugs.
“Not sure. Ask Meeks and Pitts, they are the ones with the radio,” Todd suggests, turning back to gaze out the window. The sun was sinking, casting pale purple and yellow light slipping and sliding across the snow. The sky was gray, almost white, making the landscape look almost like an unfinished coloring page. Todd liked when it looked like that, he always found it fascinating although he couldn't really figure out why.
“Oh alright. I had just assumed since you’ve been watching it so long, that the weather gods might have started talking to you by now,” Neil jokes, sitting down across from Todd, and letting his legs stretch out in front of him. Todd blushes, although it was hard to tell with how pink his cheeks and nose already were because of the cold.
“It hasn't been that long,” Todd mumbles. Then he pauses, looking up. He didn't have a watch on him and he couldn't see the clock from this part of the library. He doesn't think he has been sitting here for too long. But when he writes, he sometimes gets sucked up into his own mind and loses track of everything else, time included.
“Has it been that long?” Todd- suddenly unsure- asks, looking up at Neil who grins at him.
“It’s been four hours, more or less. It’s almost time for dinner, that's why I came to get you.” Todd nods, feeling a little bit shocked. It was a Friday, and he had told the other poets that he was going to stop by the library after classes for a few minutes to return a book and check out another one. Apparently, that had been hours ago. Todd blinks and then turned to peel himself off of the window ledge. He can feel the hours now, built up in his joints as they groan and crack at the movement.
“Sorry,” Todd mumbles. Really, he hadn’t meant to spend time at all in the library, but he had seen the snow and felt his fingers tugging for a pencil. He intended to write down what he needed and be on his way. He realizes with a start that he has several notebook pages full of poems and scattered thoughts.
“Don’t apologize, we don’t mind,” Neil says, still grinning. He shoves his hands into his pockets and waits for Todd to pack up his things before swinging himself gracefully off the ledge and walking next to Todd down to the dining hall. The library is deafeningly quiet, and their footsteps echo uncomfortably loud around the room. The hallway is not much better: still and silent. Neil has never liked silence.
“So, what were you writing?” he asks. Todd shrugs. He really couldn't say, if he was being honest. He knows that it sounds dumb, but when he writes he doesn't think. Writing allows him to zone out, his unconscious mind taking over. It is freeing and relaxing, but it does often leave him with rambling thoughts and scraps of good poems scribbled in almost illegible handwriting across his notebook.
“About the cold,” Todd answers, not wanting to explain his writing process to Neil who, although he would surely find it amusing and interesting, would not quite understand it. It was easier if the other poets didn’t know how Todd’s mind worked, at least not in that capacity.
“You and cold, why do you hate it so much?” Neil laughs. Todd smiles and shakes his head.
“Some people are just winter people, and other people simply are not. I am not a winter person, I hate the cold, I hate how gray everything becomes, how dead everything looks,” Neil nods sagely.
“Well, I think you’re wrong. I think winter is fresh and sharp, like focusing a camera lens,” the two would never agree on the weather, and although they knew this, they liked to argue about it anyway, in, of course, a friendly manner.
The dining hall was crowded and bustling with boys. Neil and Todd pick their way over to their usual table, the other poets already gathered around it.
“Was afraid we lost you to the snow, Todd,” Charlie jokes, moving over some so that the two fit in at the table. Todd blushes and shrugs, setting his backpack down at his feet.
“We did, for a little bit at least. I was standing in front of him for a good five minutes and he never once even looked up at me,” Neil says, leaning forward so that everyone can hear him.
“What are you even looking for out there?” Meeks asks, squinting at him. Todd shakes his head, grinning at his friends.
“The abominable snowman,” Todd answers, smiling widely as his friends laugh at the joke. In reality, he was looking for words, but that was too confusing to explain over dinner.
---
Todd goes to bed that night shivering. He wakes up the next morning with one of Neil’s extra blankets thrown over him. In a different life and in a different time, he would have been embarrassed, but Todd had grown used to Neil and had grown comfortable around him. Instead of his cheeks heating up because he was embarrassed, his cheeks heated up because the boy he was hopelessly in love with had given him a blanket during the night. Todd fisted it in his hands and brought it up close to his face, breathing in the strong scent of Neil whom he loved so much.
Finally, Todd sat up and pushed the blanket away. He glanced over at his roommate who was still asleep. Todd often woke up earlier than Neil did. He got up quietly and folded Neil’s blanket, setting it on his desk. Light was streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, much brighter than it should have been given the time. Todd squints at it before moving over to the window and pulling back the blinds some. He gasps in pure surprise when he sees the outside: it is covered in snow and still snowing. There must be four inches or more coating everything. The sun, although pale and still cresting over the crust of the earth, makes the snow shine like neon lights and Todd has to shield his eyes.
He quickly set the blinds back in place, not wanting the almost blinding light to wake up Neil, who was probably going to sleep for a few more hours. It was Saturday after all, not like they had anywhere to be.
Todd gathers his book, his notebook, and a handful of different writing utensils even though he will only be using the one pen that he always uses. Then he heads down to breakfast. Welton was an old school and the heating system was spotty at best, so it was freezing inside. Todd grabbed a warm bowl of porridge, and then before he left he poured some steaming tea into a thermos. Then he headed down to the library. It was bound to be deserted at this time of morning, which is exactly what Todd wanted. Not that he didn’t love the poets with his entire heart, but sometimes even they could be a bit much. Being alone in the library with nothing but literature to keep him company sounded like the perfect way to spend the morning, at least until the other poets woke up and were ready to embark on whatever journey they decided to take that day.
The library, as he suspected, was empty. Even the librarian was gone from his normal post at the front desk. Todd was lucky that the doors were unlocked and he was able to get in.
He made a beeline for his favorite spot at the very back of the library. He had to snake his way through shelves of books upon books to get there, and it was hard to find if no one knew about it. It was a small alcove flanked by a window on one side and the poetry section on the other. It was large enough for a single small desk and chair. It was made for him, or at least Todd liked to think so.
Once he settled down, he opened his book up and set it on the table in front of him. Then, he opened up his notebook and took out his favorite and only pen he used. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, a small and contented smile on his lips. Then, he let himself be taken over by words.
When he finally came to, his notebook filled with short poems and stories and lines and ideas, the sun was much higher in the sky than it had been, but the snow was still falling in a constant, heavy hail.
His back was stiff and his fingers were practically numb from the cold seeping in from the window. Todd stretched, listening as his back popped in protest. Then he gathers up his stuff and makes his way out of the library. There were a few students in one corner working on what he presumed to be schoolwork, but other than that the place was still empty, as were the halls.
Todd was walking back to his dorm room when he felt a hand reach out and grab him from one of the other dorms. He stumbled, falling into Charlie who had grabbed him and pulled him into Meeks and Pitts’s room.
“Todd, did you hear?” Todd blinked. He had been alone all morning, he hadn’t heard anything, but of course, the others did not know that.
“Hear what?”
“We’re supposed to get more than a foot of snow,” Meeks says giddily, leaning forward on his bed. He had a pair of headphones on, shoved over one ear, and he was holding up a weird antenna thing. It was his and Pitts’s radio, where Todd assumed they were getting weather updates.
“That makes sense, it’s been snowing hard all morning,” Todd muses.
“Do you think we’ll be able to go sledding?” Charlie asks.
“Do you have a sled?” Cameron retorts, looking rather skeptical, more so than normal that is.
“Well, we could make one. We’re poets, we are creative, we invent stuff,” Charlie is quick to reply. The argument is only going to escalate further if one of the other poets doesn't say something, so Todd quickly jumps in.
“The library just got a new shipment of textbooks in, the boxes may still be here if we want to use those,” he suggests. Charlie beams at him, slapping him on the back.
“I love the way you think, Todd!” he practically shouts. Todd shrugs, averting his gaze. In all honesty, he doesn't really want to go outside; it is cold and wet and he thinks he would be quite miserable if he did. But he wants to see his friends happy, and if this is what it takes he supposes he is willing enough.
Charlie stomps down to the library to see if the boxes are still there, and everyone else heads back to their rooms to change. Todd gathers up every piece of warm clothing he owns and dumps them onto his bead to begin the meticulous process of bundling up. Neil, much to Todd’s annoyance, puts on a heavy coat, gloves, and an extra pair of socks and that is it. He is done and ready while Todd is still pulling his head through the third sweater he is going to wear.
“Todd, do you really think you need all that?” Neil asks innocently from his bed as he watches Todd prepare to head out into the snow. Todd, trying to force three pairs of gloves on his fingers, glares at him.
“Some of us are human and feel cold, Neil,” Todd huffs, finally getting his gloves in place. He knows that his hands will still somehow be wet and numb as soon as he steps outside, but the extra gloves make him feel better.
Charlie meets the other poets in the front, cardboard boxes tucked up under his arm. He has a huge smile on his face which almost makes up for the fact that Todd is shivering and it is so cold that he can see his breath. Outside, the air is so cold it seems to cut his throat and lungs. He clumsily raises his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose but it isn't enough and Todd already wants to go back inside where it is warm and dry. Instead of turning back though, he treks through the snow and wind to get to the large hill on one side of campus. A few other boys are out running in the snow, but mostly the lawn is empty.
“Ready for an adventure, boys?” Charlie asks, passing out flattened boxes. There are only four boxes, so Todd along with Cameron and Meeks wait at the top of the hill, watching as the other poets laugh and balance on top of the flat pieces of cardboard. They might be a little small, but that doesn't stop Knox, Charlie, Neil, and Pitts from sitting on them and edging near the decline of the hill. Todd walks up behind Neil and gives him a shove. With a gleeful shout, Neil is sent flying down the hill, shouting and laughing the whole time. The others are quick to follow and Todd watches affectionately as his roommate gets to the bottom of the hill and slides to a stop. He looks up and waves at Todd, who shyly waves back.
Watching the four poets struggle back up the hill is more amusing than watching them slide down. The snow is thick and icy, and none of the boys can find purchase on it. They slip and fall down the hill multiple times before eventually crawling their way back to the top.
“Right then, your turn,” Neil says breathlessly when he finally makes his way back to where Todd is standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. Todd shakes his head vigorously and takes a small step back.
“Absolutely not,”
“But this was your idea,”
“No it wasn't, it was Charlie,” Todd argues. The other poets have already traded off and Todd can hear Cameron and Meeks screaming as they rocket down the hill.
“Todd, it's fun, I promise. Just try once, please,” Neil begs. Todd rolls his eyes but takes the makeshift sled from his roommate. He has always had trouble saying no to Neil’s puppy dog eyes, especially now when they shine so bright in the sun reflected off the snow.
He takes a deep breath and settles as best he can onto the cardboard. It is already bent from Neil’s run, and he dimly hopes that it will tear under him so that they can't sled anymore and they tragically have to go back inside and warm up and possibly drink hot tea.
As soon as he is in a semi-comfortable position, Neil is shoving him. With a grunt, Todd gets pushed down the hill. He bites back a scream that seems to get caught in the wind as it rushes past his face. The snow and ice cut at his exposed skin, and his hat flies off his head. He feels as his hair gets immediately damp from the cold snow and he would probably roll his eyes if he wasn't still hurtling down a snowy hill and fearing for his life.
He makes it to the bottom alive, which is admittedly better than what he thought was going to happen. Meeks is waiting for him and hauls him to his feet. Todd slips and slides on the ice, but eventually, Cameron and Meeks steady him. All three are breathing heavily, and they have snow and ice crusted in their hair and eyelashes.
“Well, that was fun, no?” Meeks smiles at Cameron and Todd, who glare at him.
“No,” they say in unison. That only causes Meeks to chuckle, and he pats the two on the back. The movement causes them to slide forward on the ice and Todd can't help his smile as he hears Meeks and the other poets at the top of the hill laugh.
Climbing back up the hill is admittedly very humiliating and very humbling. Todd, having watched the other poets struggle with it, decides to approach it in a different way. He shoves the cardboard- now hideously deformed and rumpled- under his arm and begins to kick in the snow with his boots. He makes little alcoves that he slides his foot into, and he begins to create a little rock wall of sorts in the snow. Cameron follows after him, using the crevices for help. Meeks is too committed to getting up a different way, and he slips and falls struggling up parallel to Todd and Cameron.
By the time they make it back to the top, Neil and Charlie are antsy, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the sleds. Todd shoves his into Neil’s hand, and he is so numb with cold that he doesn't even feel the heat rise up in his chest like he normally does when Neil’s hand brushes his.
“So we had an idea,” Neil starts. Todd immediately shakes his head, taking an apprehensive step back. Their first idea was sledding, he can't imagine that the ideas are going to get any better.
“No, just listen, Toddy,” Charlie implores, slinging his arm around Todd’s shoulder. That only causes both of them to be set off balance, and they slip around on the ice for a moment before Neil and Knox steady them.
“The idea is that we race, we’ll buddy up and see who gets to the bottom first,” Charlie explains.
“Frostbite must be eating at your brains if you think I’m doing that,” Cameron says, placing his hands on his hips and stepping backward. Charlie rolls his eyes.
“That's fine, we had an odd number of people anyway.” he retorts, sticking his tongue out at his roommate. A snowflake lands on the tip of it and Charlie grins.
“So who would the teams be?” Meeks asks. “Me and Pitts, you and Knox, and Todd and Neil?” Todd shakes his head.
“No, I’m not doing that, it's a horrible idea. I’m with Cameron on this one, guys,” Todd protests as much as he can, but the chorus of groans and pleas from everyone wears him down. The final nail in his coffin is Neil’s large, hopeful eyes. Todd curses his inability to say no to Neil and then relents.
“I don't think it's big enough for us both to go,” Todd grimaces, eyeing the small piece of cardboard, which is already well beyond its life span.
“Nonsense, Todd. Where's your sense of Carpe Diem?” Todd shuts his mouth and reluctantly sits down. Neil sits directly in front of him, placing himself between Todd's legs. Todd tries not to focus too much on how close they are, but his pounding heart is all too aware of it. He feels his cheeks flush hot despite the cold and he fights the urge to lean forward into Neil.
“Ready boys?” Charlie shouts from where he and Knox are seated in a similar position next to them. On their other side are Meeks and Pitts. A series of cheers fly up around him and Todd feels the sled jolt and then begin to slide, gaining momentum as it speeds down. Snow and ice fly up into his face and Todd squeezes his eyes shut to keep grit out of them. The wind cuts at his face and takes his breath away. He thinks he might have screamed but he has no real way of knowing because he can't hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears.
Todd is almost having a good time until they hit a large lump of ice hidden by the fresh layer of snow, and Todd feels as they go airborne. He can hear Neil cry out as their sled finally gives out after only three runs.
The boys go tumbling through the air, a tangle of limbs. Neil, in his search to grab Todd and keep both of them safe, ends up delivering a hard elbow to his face. They land jarringly, rolling in the snow and eventually coming to a stop a few feet away from each other.
Everyone is silent for a moment. Todd can feel where Neil hit his face, but he doesn't feel any pain, he is too numb for that. He feels something warm around his nose and blinks in surprise as a spot of red stains the snow under him.
“Todd!” A hand grabs at his shoulder and Todd looks up at Neil, whose face is flushed and filled with concern. His eyes grow almost comically wide when they see Todd’s bloody nose and the color drains from his face. Another spot of blood drips onto the snow and Todd has the good sense to reach up with a gloved hand and try to staunch the flow.
“Todd, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Todd it was an accident I didn’t- I would never-” Neil stammers, helping Todd to his feet. Todd has never seen Neil so flustered and he shrugs.
“It's fine, Neil, I’m fine,” his words are a bit muffled because of the blood flowing into his mouth and because he is so cold he can't feel his lips. Neil looks at Todd like he is dying, but it's not like Todd has never had a bloody nose before. He was fine, he didn't even think it was broken. Again though, he was so cold he couldn't feel it, so maybe it looked worse than it felt.
“Todd?” By this point all the other poets are gathered around Todd, all acting like he is on the brink of death. Todd shrugs them off, insisting that he is in fact fine because he is. Already the blood flow is slowing.
“Let's go back inside,” Neil says, placing his hand on the small of Todd’s back. Todd leans into the touch as much as he can without making it weird.
“You don't have to go, I’ll go in, it's okay,” Todd assures them, glancing up the hill and wondering, hoping the path he forged before is still there so he can easily walk up it.
“No, Todd we aren’t going to leave you,” the other poets all seem very concerned about Todd, which, admittedly, does make him feel a little good on the inside. He has never had a group of friends to be worried about him before.
“I’ll go inside, clean up, then come back out, I promise it's fine,” Todd begins to slowly pick his way up the hill, the other poets supporting him and making sure he doesn't fall as if he might break if he does. A part of Todd is touched that the poets care so much about him, but the other part of him is annoyed that they won’t just leave him alone. He has dealt with worse situations by himself before.
Once he makes it to the top of the hill he begins to make his way back inside. It is still snowing and he squints, trying to keep the sleet out of his eyes.
Inside and in his room, he begins to unwrap himself from the many many layers he was wearing. As he warms up and can feel his extremities again, he begins to feel where a bruise is forming on his face.
“Do you want any ice?” Neil asks, peering at him from where he stands anxiously by Todd's shoulder. Todd turns to glare at him.
“Neil, I’ve been cold since November, do you really think I want or need any ice?” This causes Neil to snort, and the worry melts from his face, much to Todd's relief. Then, Neil’s eyes light up and he spins on his heels.
“Neil?” Todd asks, confused and slightly concerned.
“I’ll be right back, don’t move,” Todd watches as Neil runs from their room. He stares at the closed door for a moment then shrugs, dumping his wet clothes onto the ground. He pulls on a sweater of his but it does little to drive the chill from his bones. He looks at Neil’s desk and sees a thick and warm sweater draped across his desk chair. He stares at it enviously for a moment, debating. Eventually, he shrugs and snatches it. Neil almost broke his nose, this is the least he can do to make up for it.
He slides it on over his head and then nestles into his bed with a poetry book that Mr. Keating lent him. It was a collection of Oscar Wilde poems, and Todd was really enjoying them. He doesn't know how long he read, but suddenly the door is flung open. It crashes against the wall with a horrible crack that causes Todd to cringe. Their room is old and decrepit as it is, they don't need a broken door added on top of everything else.
Neil runs in, a wild grin on his face. He is holding a large metal thermos in one hand, and a stack of cups in the other. He freezes when he sees Todd, his face heating up and his eyes widening. Todd isn't sure what is wrong, and he sits up self-consciously, putting the book down.
“N-Neil?” he asks. Neil blinks at him, still staring. Before either boy can do anything else Charlie shoves his way past Neil and into the room. He looks from Neil to Todd, then he grins.
“Nice sweater, Anderson,” he says, smirking. Todd blushes and begins to tug it off.
“Sorry, Neil, I forgot I was wearing it, it just looked really warm and it was so cold in here, here you can have it back,” Todd mumbles, but Neil shakes his head, snapping out of whatever trance he was in before.
“No, no, it's okay, you can keep it on,” Neil assures him. Todd shakes his head though, still fully intending to give it back to him. Neil sets the cups and thermos down on Todd’s desk before making his way over to Todd and grabbing his hand.
“Keep it on, please?” Neil is staring at Todd with wide, full eyes, and Todd is staring back. Behind them, Charlie clears his throat and both boys jerk away from each other.
“So, are you ready for the meeting?”
“Meeting?” Todd asks, still rather flustered from Neil’s close proximity. Charlie nods, pulling out a handful of hot chocolate packets from his pocket and dumping them next to the cups. Then he leans his head out the door and calls for everyone else to come. Soon, Todd’s room is filled with blankets and pillows and poets. Pitts and Meeks sit on Neil’s bed. Charlie is on the radiator and Cameron sits on the ground in front of him. Knox is sitting on Todd’s desk, his feet on Todd’s desk chair, preparing hot chocolate for everyone. Todd and Neil are curled up on Todd’s bed, extra blankets thrown around their lap and shoulders. Despite all of that and the hot chocolate that Todd eventually gets from Knox, he is still shivering. Neil glances at him, hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arm around Todd, pulling him in closer. Todd’s head falls perfectly into the crook between Neil’s head and shoulder.
“So, should we start this meeting?” Neil asks. The others nod and raise their cups of steaming watery hot chocolate in a toast. Todd smiles, snuggling in even closer to Neil, feeling the words rumble in his chest as he reads the opening verse. For the first time since it started snowing, he finally feels warm. Maybe, he thinks as he sips his hot chocolate and listens as Charlie theatrically recites a poem, Neil’s arm wrapped around him, the cold isn't that bad after all.