Chapter Text
January 17th, 1960
Dear Neil,
This is such a dumb idea. Meeks suggested writing to you. "It may help you with your grief" is what he told me. How is this meant to help me? You're gone. You won't get to read these. On the other hand, though, that means I can write whatever I want here. I can tell you all the things I never got to say to you before.
That morning…the morning when Charlie told me you were dead, we went out to the field where we used to play soccer together. The field was completely white with snow. You would've liked it. You probably would've made us build snowmen, even though we're not allowed to. It was so beautiful, just before I threw up and ruined the purity of it. I ran into the field and yawped, my first yawp being your name. It may seem odd. Someone who knew you for only four months grieved worse than the people who knew you for your entire life. Charlie has been a real help since you passed. He moved me into Knox's dorm because I would wake up screaming for you. Pitts related my screams to that of a banshee.
It was hard seeing your bed, empty and stripped of its clothes. Your father came to collect your things. Now I have nothing but memories of you and that empty bed. I guess you could say the bed could be a representation of my heart. Empty, lonely, with nothing to warm it or to bring it to life. Mr Keating got fired. Cameron snitched on the club and Mr Keating. Charlie didn't like that, not one bit. Decked him so hard that he probably broke Cameron's nose. He got expelled after that. Mr Nolan seems to actually take his threats seriously. Not against me though. When Mr Keating left, I did it. Carpe Diem, remember? I stood on my desk and called our Captain.
You should've seen it. For once in my life I wasn't afraid of getting in trouble, or even expelled. You would've been proud of me if you saw it. Neil, I miss you so much. Every day is a waking nightmare. I won't blame you or undermine your escape, I know you felt trapped and like it was the only way out. I love you, Neil. I just wish that somewhere, you're still alive doing what you love. It's the only way I can get up in the mornings. I'll sign off now. I don't think there's much left for me to say.
Rest well, Neil.
Yours,
Toddy.