Work Text:
Todd doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He’s a spiral of nervousness and self-doubt, when Mr. Keating explains about poetry his leg bounces, it’s as if his body is on autopilot. Sometimes he doodles and sketches inside his book, (it’s always on the blank pages at the back, not that anybody has to know.)
When he draws it’s usually Neil.
He’s not sure why, but it’s always Neil, sometimes it’s things that remind him of Neil. A crown of thorns, it feels rather symbolic but he’s not sure why.
Neil is torn, so heavily between his father’s wishes and his own. Should he become a doctor and live forever miserable, or become an actor and shine to his heart’s content?
Ever since Mr. Keating’s become his teacher, he’s opened up so much. He’s told Keating about his struggles and his father’s wishes, he follows his heart, but something’s deeply missing. (The way his hair flows, the way his glasses fog up in the icy weather from his warm breaths,) ever since Todd’s had glasses, he’s found himself falling harder.
Todd’s started to wear glasses, he’s noticed seeing was much more difficult, words blurred under his vision, faces were more difficult to tell apart. (A shame really, he’d have loved to stare at Neil’s face longer.) But with glasses he felt worse, he felt less confident. Teasing is common, but sometimes it hurts.
“Hey Todd, are you doing anything tonight? I want to show you something.” Neil asks with a slight hint of urgency. Todd thinks for a moment, without a hint of hesitation he replies. “Sure, I’m not busy.”
And in the night they wander outside, on a walk, scarves on, glasses as foggy as ever. “So I wrote a poem.” Neil speaks.
”You did?”
”I did.”
”I’m intrigued Neil, now you’re making me really want to hear it.” Small blush forms on both their faces but they don’t dare to address it, not yet.
”Okay, but please don’t laugh.”
”I would never.”
Neil hands him a piece of folded up paper with scrunched-up corners and burnt edges, he supposed be really did go with the whole old poetry theme for this one.
He reads:
Id rather live with joy and a life well lived, Than a life where I am neither satisfied nor happy, to be with you, is a heaven’s blessing, so tell me, why do I yearn for more?
Why do I wish for the impossible? To go against the wishes of authority kills me internally, carpe diem, they say, they chant.
Take center stage,
dazzle like a star,
carpe diem.
Todd doesn’t know what to say, but it’s clear that Neil is trapped in a constant state of expectations, yet he’s got such a way with words. “It’s lovely Neil, you’ve hit it on the head.”
”Really? I wrote it when I couldn’t really think honestly, and now you know my feelings too I suppose, crushing expectations.”
“Honestly Neil, you’ve got to give yourself more credit, your writing is really good.”
The tips of his ears are red, and he’s blushing profusely, speechless. “Todd, I have something to confess.” His hands shake as he holds the poem.
“What’s wrong? You seem a bit red,”
”I like you Todd, like the kind where I’d want to be more than friends Todd, I know it’s sudden but I really do like you, to be fair though, Mr. Keating deserves credit for helping me out of my shell. But, I do like you Todd.”
Todd is speechless staring at him, open jawed and absolutely pretty.
“I didn’t know you felt the same Neil, of course I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I love you too.”
Neil leans in, and Todd kisses him back without missing a beat, the light pole flickering above them, and a window dimly lit.
”Does this mean we’re Boyfriends now?” Todd asks with a smile plastered across his face and cleaning his foggy glasses.
”If you want us to be,”
“Of course I do! I love you Neil.”
”Love you too Todd.”
“It’s a bit cold, should we go back inside now?”
”Yeah honestly, the weather is horrible.”
Holding hands they return (only to be interrupted by the creaking stairs and making their way upstairs as quietly as possible.)
They quietly attempt to open the door to their dorm but door creeks and they truly hope they could be mistaken as just needing to use the bathroom.
Tonight is different. They do not sleep in seperate beds, Todd removes his glasses and puts them on whatever table he’s nearest to, and Neil joins beside him.
Tonight may have just been the greatest night of their lives. Todd’s less anxious but that doesn’t mean his nagging thoughts are fully gone, they’re still there but drowned out by Neil’s kind words. And his subconscious leg movements stuck but were less frequent.
His self-doubt is still there, ever present, ever lingering, but with how much happier he is now, somerimes it feels like all of his doubts and self-hatred fade away. He loves Mr. Keating’s class, he’s definitely one of the more unique teacher’s Todd’s ever had, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
Especially not the Dead Poet’s Society, he’d live all over for that club again, reading: At the Smithsonian, Roses, Revisited, in a Paradoxical Autumn, yet he’d do it all again if Neil was there.
Okay, maybe he needed to find better poems he liked, but for now those would do, but he’s reminded of Neil every time he reads those poems, like a flower life has left to fend for itself.
Maybe he should write Neil a small script or a poem, he doubts he’d like it though, but maybe it’s worth a try, he’ll write it into perfection, every phrase could sound poetic but what if it’s too much?
Writing a poem or a play were a nightmare in of itself, he tried to get the words to come out right on paper, but when the mind thinks and dreams, it doesn’t have time to write everything all at once.
That gives him an idea.
What if he spoke it from the heart?
To Neil it was perfect. Everything Todd did was perfect.
Todd was perfect.