Chapter Text
Todd didn't curse a lot. He got in trouble growing up if he even muttered a word that sounded like a curse word. It was ingrained into him that he should not be cursing. But of course, he knew a bunch of cuss words, he had been going to school all his life and middle school boys had a mouth like no other. When he transferred to Welton during his junior year, he thought the cussing would get better. This was an elite school after all, and these boys were top students. He was sorely mistaken, and he learned more cuss words in his first three weeks than he had ever heard in his entire life. The students would get yelled at every time a teacher heard them say one, but that didn't stop them. You could tell when a test was around the corner because there would be students crowded in the common room and library cursing the teachers and the school and themselves. Todd found it a little amusing. He didn't cuss, of course. It was built into his mind that he wasn't supposed to. The other poets noticed this and Charlie especially tried to get him to cuss for the fun of it. He just wanted to hear Todd mutter one measly curse word. Todd refused, although looking at his first grade on his first chem test he heavily considered it.
He made it halfway through his junior year before he let his mouth slip. It was Charlie’s fault, as things often were. They were having a meeting, and it was about to become bitterly cold for the winter, but as it was fall was still struggling with its hold over the school, and the meeting was pleasant, with a nice breeze and rustling golden leaves scattered around them. They had moved out of the cave, Charlie with his saxophone, Knox with a drum that he could use with semi-success. Neil was twirling Todd, making them both laugh.
The fallen leaves made the ground slippery and traction was almost nonexistent. Because of this, Charlie, who had his arms occupied by his instrument, fell when he tried to do a spinning jump which was in itself a stupid idea.
He crashed to the ground, his head thwacking against the ground. The music stopped and everyone froze for a moment. Then, Todd being the closest to him, ran to his side. Charlie was lying on his side and Todd gently turned him over, studying his face.
“Oh fuck,” Todd mutters. That spurs the other poets into action because that was the first time they had ever heard Todd curse and that meant that it must be bad.
They all gathered around Charlie and saw a large, already swelling gash across his temple. He must have hit a rock on the ground, hidden by the leaves. It was bleeding a lot, more than the other poets were comfortable with. Todd gently peels his jacket off and pressed it to the wound. Charlie's eyes were closed, but with the pressure, he peeled them open. His pupils were blown and Todd cringed, fighting the urge to cuss again.
“Charlie, you with us?” Neil asks, crouching down next to his head. Charlie blinks sluggishly, then nods, pushing himself to sit up. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if Charlie would keel over, but he didn't. He remained upright and he blinked a few times to clear his head. His pupils still weren't even and he probably did have a concussion, but at least he was coherent and awake.
“Do you think you can walk?” Meeks asks. Charlie stares straight ahead for a moment, then nods.
“We should take him to the nurse,” Cameron says. Then he looks panicky, or more panicky that is. “We’ll say he fell out of bed and hit his head on the desk, that way we don't get in trouble,” he supplies quickly. Charlie swivels around to look at his roommate, a grin forming on his face, one that is made only slightly creepy by the blood running down his head.
“Wow, you’re lying for me?” he asks. Cameron rolls his eyes, moving to Charlie’s side and helping him stand up. The other poets crowded around him, and Todd grabs Charlie’s saxophone because he knows the poet is going to want that later. Then they begin their slow trek back to the school. Cameron takes Charlie right to the nurse's office, and the other poets head back to their own rooms, promising to visit Charlie in the morning.
The next morning, the boys gathered around Charlie who was in a bed in the nursing wing, looking rather cross. He kept insisting that he didn't need to be there, but every time he brought this up with the nurse she would just smile at him and pat him on the shoulder.
“Well, last night was sure something,” Meeks says. “Charlie lost more of his precious brain cells, and Todd cussed for the first time,” the others nod, some laughing and grinning. Charlie’s mouth falls open and he stares at Todd. he looks almost betrayed and Todd shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.
“You cussed? Without me?” he whispers, sounding more hurt this morning than he did last night. Todd shrugs.
“You were there,” he says bashfully. “You were just unconscious,” Charlie groans, draping an arm over his eyes.
“I can't believe I missed it, it was going to be such a big moment. I was going to throw a party,” he laments. Todd blushes, shaking his head. Charlie peels his arm away from his eyes and squints at Todd.
“Do it again, please?” he begs. Todd shakes his head, leaning back in his chair.
“Sorry,” he says without sounding very sorry at all. Charlie groans again.
“Please Todd, do it for an injured man,” Todd laughs, crossing his arms against his chest.
“Nope,”
“Toddy, you’re killing me. What if I was dying, and that was my last wish? You would refuse a dying man?”
“If you're dying, our room will be clean for the first time ever,” Cameron mutters. Charlie glares at him.
“I can't believe you all are bullying me. I almost died last night,” Charlie complains. Todd laughs, enjoying the other poets’ company as they make fun of each other and pull jokes. And although he would never tell this to any of them, especially Charlie, cussing was kind of satisfying. Not that he would start doing it all the time, but he thought the word was fitting for the situation, and he was a poet, after all, finding the right word for the right situation was kind of his job.