Chapter Text
Todd opens his eyes to faint beams of sunlight streaming through his thin curtains. He yawns and glances at the calendar above his dresser - August 31, 1959. Closing his eyes he swallows dryly, praying to his parents God that the day passes him by.
Welton Academy hangs heavy on the back of his eyelids, seeping into his mind with its tendrils of stress and heavy weight of expectation. Todd grinds his molars hard, pulling the covers up further beneath his chin.
He’s too warm and wildly uncomfortable, yet can’t get himself to escape from beneath the sheets. He’s sixteen years old, and yet his brain reasons with him as if he’s five ‘If you don’t move, if you don’t open your eyes, the day won’t come,’.
His mother fist patters swiftly against his bedroom door, voice muffled through the wooden barrier, “Be down for breakfast in ten, Toddy!” she cooes, footsteps pattering across the hall and down the stairs.
Todd cringes at the nickname, taking a moment longer beneath the sheets before tersely pulling his covers off and sitting up with a shaky breath. The air is cooler without the blankets, although summer’s final gasps of heat seep through the walls, flushing everything in its warmth.
Glancing to his door, his eyes lock on a freshly ironed suit, hanging limply. It’s unnaturally stiff and straight, uncomfortable to even glance at. It looks like Todd’s brother’s old suit, and he quickly realizes that’s because it is. Standing on curled toes, Todd trudges towards the suit, grabs the hanger, and lowers it. The cuff has embroidered initials – J.A.
It feels like a message.
He makes it downstairs in about fifteen minutes, spending a majority of that time bent over the toilet gagging on dreaded anticipation for the day before climbing into the suit and trying to loosen its noose around his neck.
“You look very handsome, Todd,” His mother says as he enters the dining room, reaching out to smooth his jacket and dress-shirt, “Doesn’t he, honey,”
“Yes, he does,” Todd's father concedes, turning the newspaper over instead of looking up. He doesn’t need to look up. Todd is unchanging. No matter which angle his father looks at him, there’s always the same thing standing there. Five dollars and ninety-eight cents.
Todd barely manages to stomach a bite of his toast, instead placing an ice cube from his water onto his tongue and lulling it around his mouth. He places it between his molars and clamps down, feeling it crack and break apart.
He spends the car ride to Welton leaned against the car door, watching the scenery as they pass by. His mother talks, occasionally asking a question that Todd answers with a “yes” or a “no.”
Eventually they take a turn into a crowded parking lot, pulling into a spot and exiting the vehicle.
Todd hangs back a moment, pulling at his collar which has grown more and more itchy with time. He sucks in a breath, swallowing violently as he stares at the grand building of Welton Academy - the gray stone-brick exterior and intricate stained-glass windows, equal parts terrifying and intriguing. Equal parts prison and chapel.
“Toddy, come on. Let’s find some good seats!”
He manages to pull himself out of the backseat, rubbing a hand over his beating heart as if attempting to soothe it into silence.
They make their way into the building, Todds’ mother excitedly ushering them into an empty row.
Todd sits, the cold wooden pews reminiscent of those of a church. He finds his eyes drawn towards a collection of paintings hung along the stone walls of the chamber - the stages of the cross, he realizes. He looks towards the front of the room and sees a statue hung on the wall. Jesus, pale skinned, the image of holiness and catholicism, nailed to the cross above the gathering teachers. The school chapel, he ascertains as he glances at the seemingly copious amount of religious items and imagery. It feels uncomfortable. Todd just hopes he won’t have to kneel.
He sniffles as they wait for the ceremony to begin. He stares down at his feet as people trickle into the room and find seats.
The beginning of the ceremony is signaled by the loud skirl of bag-pipes, echoing off of the stone walls of the chamber. Todd wishes he could cover his ears, the noise thumping around his head, but he knows it would be considered disrespectful.
A group of boys march down the center of the church, following the loud bag-piper, but Todd doesn't pay them much mind, instead biting the inside of his cheeks and pushing his cuticles back with great focus.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys, the light of knowledge,” a resounding voice booms out from the front of the room. The speaker is short and old, from what Todd can see, but intimidating with his echoing voice and posture of stature, nonetheless.
The ceremony goes on, boys in the front row lighting their candles, the man, Mr. Nolan, Todd discerns, continuing his speech. Todd stands when the other boys do, though only because of his parents pushing him up from his seat. It feels wildly embarrassing - standing with the uniformed boys, as if he belongs here. He sits down before any of the others.
Mr. Nolan introduces the new English teacher, and then talks for what feels like forever.
The ceremony ends eventually.
They stop to speak with Mr. Nolan at the exit, the introduction lasting too long - Todd squirming beneath the heavy scrutiny of his gaze.
“Mr. Anderson. You have some big shoes to fill, young man. Your brother was one of our finest.” Mr. Nolan says, and Todd thanks him despite knowing that it’s not a compliment. It feels more like a threat than anything - Mr Nolan's harsh eyes, bulbous and expectant; his wrinkly hand grasping Todds briefly but assertively, firm and almost crushing. It’s as if he’s threatening to remake Todd, proving his authority, saying that Todd is not to step out of line or else-
Then, Todd's parents are moving out of the door with him, and Mr. Nolan is talking to some other family and Todd realizes he’s overthinking it.
In the parking lot, his mother hugs him, telling him to be good. His father shakes his trembling hand and says not to get in trouble. Neither of them says to call home, and Todd doesn’t offer to.
With a clap on the back, the Andersons are gone, and Todd is left alone.
He manages to shuffle into the entrance, molars grinding as he’s directed towards a side door that cuts through a courtyard towards the dorms. As he heads through the doorway, he hears a voice.
“Hey, I hear we’re gonna be roommates!” Todd turns around to find the source of the voice, big brown eyes find his own, a hand reaching out for Todds in which he shakes awkwardly. The brief contact sends goosebumps up his arm, and he blames it on the early-autumn weather.
“I’m Neil Perry,”
“Todd Anderson,” he chokes out as smoothly as he can muster.
“Why’d you leave Balincrest?” Todd wonders how he knows so much about him.
Todd answers truthfully, “My brother went here,” and it’s embarrassing, honestly. The truth for him attending Welton isn't his grades or brain, not his ambition or work-ethic. His brother went here, and he’s not his brother, but he is his brother’s sibling, and that status alone holds more weight than any personal feats.
“Oh, so you’re that Anderson.” Neil laughs, and it’s a beautiful laugh, but the words almost sting.
They enter another hallway, Todd dragging his luggage as boys and their families form crowds and block the hallway traffic.
Todd tries to keep up with Neil, dodging boys and stray luggage, but is quickly left behind as two parents exit a dorm directly in front of him. He has to slow down after this, navigating his way towards the doorway Neil disappeared into
“Heard you got the new kid. Looks like a stiff!” a redheaded boy calls out with a laugh from the entrance of a room ahead, palm slapping against the doorframe. Todd quickly realizes it’s the room Neil entered, face heating as he squeezes through the doorframe beside the boy.
“Oops,” the boy mutters swiftly exiting.
Todd makes quick work of things, lifting his luggage onto the unclaimed bed to the left of the room and unbuckling the clasps, not looking up at Neil.
“Listen, Don’t mind Cameron. He was born with a foot in his mouth. You know what I mean?” Neil attempts to eradicate the awkwardness, apologizing for his friend. He playfully slaps a rolled up pamphlet against Todd's back.
Todd does know what he means, and he looks back to try and formulate a witty reply, only to meet Neil’s gaze and go blank, turning away without even opening his mouth.
“Rumor has it, you did summer school,” a smooth voice coos from the doorway.
The boy standing there is smirking mischievously, leaned lazily against the frame as two faces peek over his shoulder. He’s quite handsome, brown hair neatly parted at the side, eyes heavy set and brows thick. One of the boys behind him has red hair, although it’s a different boy from the one before. He has a mousy sort of look to him, his face a map of freckled skin. The third boy is similar looking to the one who spoke, hair a slightly lighter shade and gaze a bit less heavy. His nose is a sharp arch, with a face that is otherwise quite soft.
”Yup. My father wanted me to get ahead,” Neil confirms, a sly smile rising to his own face, “How was your summer, Slick?”
“Keen,” the boy answers, smile becoming fuller as he pushes further into the room.
Todd stands at his suitcase, methodically unpacking his folded clothing onto the barren bed. He glances back and forth between his task towards the boys and back.
“Meeks. Door. Closed.” the boy says. The redhead boy behind him, Meeks, does as he’s told.
It’s weird, standing in this room with a group of strangers, all seemingly oblivious to him being there. He’s not quite sure what it is he’s supposed to do in this situation. Leave? No, it’s his dorm too, and he’s not even sure where he’d go. Speak up? Could be awkward, they might not like him. If they ignored him, it’d be even worse. So, he stays silent, continuing to unpack.
“Gentleman, what are the four pillars?” Neil asks with a smile and air of drama.
The boys all answer in unison, “Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement.”
By this point, the initial brown haired boy is lounging lazily on Neils bed, lighting a cigarette that he drags from slowly. The other boys are sat around the room, Neil making himself a place on the radiator between the two beds. The brown-haired boy introduces the plans for a study group, Neil promptly saying that the boy from before, Cameron, wants to join in. There’s some gentle quips here, when suddenly, the red-haired boy addresses Todd.
”Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Meeks,” He reaches a hand outwards, offering it for Todd to shake, seemingly becoming suddenly aware of Todd's presence.
Neil stands from his spot on the windowsill, “Oh! This is Todd Anderson,”
Todd turns from his luggage to shake his hand, feeling awkward. It feels as if everything Todd does is dosed with a sizable amount of discomfort .
“Nice to meet you,” Meeks says with a smile, leaning back into his seat.
“Nice to meet you,” Todd answers quietly, unsure of what else to say.
“Charlie Dalton.” The smug looking brunette says, not offering a hand to shake. Todd is secretly thankful, palm embarrassingly sweaty from all this handshaking.
Then, the final boy reaches a hand out for Todd to shake and Todd does so, despite the embarrassment that it comes with.
“Knox Overstreet,” he offers, releasing Todd's hand as Neil speaks.
“Todd’s brother was Jeffery Anderson.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Valedictorian. National merit scholar.” Charlie says without a trace of being impressed by these achievements, nearly mocking in his tone as he drags from his cigarette again.
“Oh, well. Welcome to Hellton.” Meeks offers.
”It’s every bit as tough as they say, unless you’re a genius like Meeks,” Charlie says, coughing out a plume of smoke.
“He flatters me. That’s why I help him with latin.”
“And English, and Trig.”
There’s a knock on the door, Charlie coughing and swiftly dropping his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, stomping down on it with his polished shoe. Neil flaps his hand through the air in an attempt to dissipate the faint trail of smoke.
“It’s open,” Neil calls out.
The door creaks open, a balding man with downturned eyebrows and sharp features treading silently into the room of boys. The room still smells like cigarette smoke, but if the man can smell it, he doesn’t say.
“Father,” Neils voice creaks out, cracking in the middle of the word. He’s instantly shot up from his spot at the window, posture stiffening and back straightening, “I thought you’d gone,”
And Todd knows that voice - a sort of fear that Todd can’t really relate to, but one he can almost understand. Fathers stand tall and proud. They don’t have to say a word to shatter their sons. There’s something about them that threatens to snap, threatens to do worse than grasp for their belts or raise their voice. It instead threatens disappointment - calm, quiet, grieving for a son who’s still there. For who they could be, or who they could’ve been, as if they aren’t standing before them as they are.
And Todd’s father doesn’t tell him he’s disappointed. Todd knows he is, but he thinks hearing it would break something. Thinks that maybe, knowing without really knowing, is better than the alternative. And hearing that crack in Neils voice brings something tense into his posture. It cramps up his fingers around the desk set he’s lifting from his suitcase, digs a nail into the leather.
“Keep your seats, fellows, keep your seats.” Mr. Perry says as Charlie, Meeks, and Knox all stand at his entrance. Todd feels the need to stand up too, despite already being stood. The three other boys sit down.
“Neil, I've just spoken to Mr. Nolan. I think that you're taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I've decided that you should drop the school annual.” he says stiffly, an order rather than a suggestion.
Neil visibly falters at this, brow creasing as he speaks, “But, I’m the assistant editor this year.”
”Well, I’m sorry Neil,” Todd can hear the insincerity, can practically feel it choking the air around Neil.
”But father! I can’t, it wouldn’t be fair,” Neil croaks, and the room instantly becomes colder, the previous lightness and laughter of the boys from a mere minute ago almost impossible to imagine.
It’s obvious that Neil’s said the wrong thing as Mr. Perry’s stony voice speaks out louder than before. “Fellas, would you excuse us for a moment?”
He exits, and Neil, shamefully lowering his head, follows.
The other boys stand from their spots, quietly getting closer to the door in an attempt to eavesdrop on Mr. Perry's reprimands. Todd doesn’t get any closer, not believing it to be his place to do so. But still, he can hear the muffled conversation from the hallway, and he gets a good idea on what is being said.
He doesn’t really know Neil Perry. It’s been minutes since he’s met him, hardly an impactful amount of time, something he most likely won’t really remember in a few weeks. And yet, Neil Perry is already expanding within his life. He hates it, the way his gut contracts at Neils voice raising. Neil Perry being upset feels wrong, and that’s a stupid thing to say, but Todd can’t really stomach it.
“I don’t care! I don’t give a damn about any of it,” Neil says to the boys who have trickled out into the hall after Mr. Perry's departure. He cares so much that it radiates off of him, something intense and sour. It leaves a bad taste on Todd's tongue.
It’s silent for a moment as Neil twists into the room.
Meeks breaks the silence, “Well, uh, Latin, eight o’clock in my room?”
”Yes,” Neil says with a snap of his finger, swallowing down the anger, pushing it somewhere where Todd can’t see it. And yet, it still lingers in his mouth.
“Todd, you’re welcome to join us,” Meeks offers, leaving the bedroom
“Yeah! Come along,” Knox smiles, following behind the redhead.
Todd looks up from the desk he’s begun placing things on, hand fidgeting with his alarm clock, “Thanks,” he mutters, looking away.
He won’t be going, despite the offer. He’ll likely make a fool of himself - say something stupid, show how little he deserves to attend this school. Balincrest wasn’t bad - Todds’ grades were decent, B’s with a few C’s. But it was no Welton, and Todd struggled enough with schoolwork there.
He releases the alarm clock, reaching up to the tie that’s been silently suffocating him, and loosening it. He unbuttons the top button of his shirt, scratching at the line it’s left in his skin.
From behind him, there’s the sound of the bed creaking and Neil sighing as he lays on the uncovered mattress. The springs are old with age, groaning with every slight movement from the other boy.
Todd wonders how many boys before have slept on these beds - have curled up, missing their parents or hating them, have drifted off only to wake up and go to the same classes they’ll have to attend tomorrow. Tradition is such a big word, a pillar of the school, and yet it shrinks itself down sometimes. Isn’t this a tradition? Laying on a bed so many others have, unmoving like so many boys before. Every year, the same thing, a new body. This seems larger than tradition, and Todd is trying to grapple how it can be both.
Todd manages to completely empty his suitcase, piling notebooks in a neat stack in the corner of his desk, setting his desk-set in the center. He stares, unsure of what to do with himself now.
“So, will you be coming to study group tonight?” Neil asks.
Todd looks over to where he’s still sprawled on the bed, suitcase unopened and untouched beside him. His neck is bent so he can look at Todd, and it feels weirdly like he’s being analyzed.
“Um, I’m, um. Maybe,” Todd chokes out, looking away as his face burns red.
“You’ll get to meet Gerard, then. And Cameron will be there. He’s a bit,” Neil pauses, “Strange.” he decides on, ”But he’s good at school.”
Todd nods stupidly, sitting on the edge of his bed.
There’s a moment of silence between them, this time much more prominent than before. The sound of muffled laughter and conversation seeps through the walls, the floorboards outside of their room creaking as people pass.
Neil abruptly stands from the mattress, approaching the window and sitting back on the sill.
“So, what did you think of my father?” Neil asks.
Todd sits for a second, confused on what to say.
“Um,” Todd manages to mumble out.
“If you want to survive Welton, you’ll have to learn to speak up,” Neil jokes, head lulling backwards against the gray wall. Todd swallows, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap, the repetition soothing.
“I don’t know what to think,” Todd admits quietly, quickly, like speaking burns his tongue.
They sit with that for a moment, and Todd begins to wonder if Neil heard him.
“Me neither,” comes the faint reply, and Todd is left with no time to digest that before Neil has stood.
“Come on, we have to go get our schedules from Mr. Nolan's office,”
And then Neil’s exiting the room, and Todd is helplessly following him. And Todd wants to apologize for something without knowing what that is.
Later that night, laying in bed, Neil Perry will whisper ‘Goodnight’ to Todd, and something will clench in his chest, something will burrow deeper inside of him, and he will whisper it back because the other words, squirming deep within him, are burrowed too deep to pull out.