Chapter Text
“This meeting of the Dead Poets Society has been called to order!”
All of the poets were crammed in their sanctuary for a ritual midnight meeting. It was to be the first one since Neil started working on his new show, and everyone was eager to ask him how it had been.
“So… how’s it been?”
“Not bad.”
The multitude of questions about A Midsummer Night’s Dream had inevitably dripped away to pure gossip, who in the cast was nice or not, who the director was screwing. Neil answered these questions and more, bringing up on his own accord how he was making all these new friends– and Charlie- being the wise ass he was- asked Neil if he had any special new friends.
“C’mon, Neil, there’s no way that you aren’t bagging babe after babe in this play. Shakespeare intended for it to be so… no crossed stars in Midsummer” (The wrong statement was ignored by everyone except Cameron, who scoffed).
Neil blushed and fiddled with his collar as the rest of the poets leaned in, could Neil Perry finally have himself a girlfriend?
“Y’know, Chris-” Knox started, sheepishly pattering out as Charlie gave him daggers.
“I- Well I guess that there is this one girl-” that was all that Neil got to say before the cave erupted in whoops and hollers. Charlie grabbed Neil in a celebratory headlock, while Knox took the opportunity to poke Charlie harshly on the small of his back. Even Cameron, who only smiled when he got an A (and when others didn't), congratulated him. Todd immediately blanched as the words fell from Neil’s mouth.
It is quite the feeling when your best friend gets a crush, and maybe even has himself a date, without telling you first. It's a separate and wholly more intimate one when you yourself have a crush on that friend. And you were there first. Todd quietly slipped away, escaping through the commotion and bustle of Neil’s newfound manhood. He couldn’t applaud for his closest friend when the person he wanted was a girl, not him. Wasn’t that pathetic? He hated not being able to feel happy, normal for Neil. Because it wasn’t normal at all, and that already made Todd feel sick to his stomach. He trudged to his dorm and practically melted into his bed; not undressing or brushing his teeth before he fell into a fitful sleep.
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That night was full of tossing and turning. Neil came back at one point, and Todd was pretty sure he tried to talk to him, but he continued to feign sleep until Neil crawled into his own bed with a resigning sigh. It passed slowly but inevitably, like heartache usually does. In the morning Todd woke up in the wrong sort of mood, having had to wipe some drool off of his cheek and shower just to get a cowlick down. Physical appearance typically meant little to him, but when feeling upset, he tried to look his best, to counteract his blues with personal style, and perhaps gain a muster of self confidence.
The breakfast table was muttering their something-or-others, not awake enough to cohesively converse with one another. Todd sat down and tried not to grab any attention, hoping to avoid any ‘where were you last night?’s. He felt good enough about himself to sit with his chest higher than usual, feeling clean, but still shitty. It is funny how that works, looking your physical best and still being mentally your worst. Neil sat down next to him, and shoved Todd playfully in the shoulder. After living with a guy, you would think you understood their patterns, but Todd still couldn’t wrap his head around Neil’s love of mornings.
Neil started to eat his scrambled eggs with fervor, and Todd thought that maybe the tell-all the poets and him went through last night made him particularly hungry. Neil’s plate was cleaned soon, and Todd gave him his bacon, a true testament to his love. In between bites, Neil asked, “So, where did you go last night?” Todd looked down, not quite knowing how to phrase it.
“I suppose I just got tired.”
Neil looked at him suspiciously, but not in a malicious way. In a… well, Todd assumed it to be a ‘you know you can talk to me’ sort of one. “Todd, you know you can talk to me.” Ah, the thrill of being correct.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that Neil-”
“If you’re feeling left out again we can figure something out, like shutting our eyes while you read or,” “Neil-” “find a poem that makes you seem really smart,” “Neil-” “we could even have Pitts and Meeks make a device that renders your voice to make it different,” “Neil.”
Neil finally stopped, his brain racked with ideas on how to comfort Todd. “Sorry… I guess I just hate how… how ousted you feel. We all think of you as one of us.”
The idea that in his three short months of going to school here he had made friends who considered him to be a part of them was nearly unbearable, but he was certainly not able to cry or shake or collapse at breakfast. It was too early for dramatics. He looked at Neil, exasperated, and not knowing what to say. Words didn’t like to come out of Todd’s mouth all that often.
“Todd?” Neil was looking at him concernedly, breaking him out of his head. Before Todd could say anything though, the bell rang, and Neil could only give him a worried sigh before carting his plate away to start his school day. Todd echoed the sigh as he himself went to clean up, not eager to begin his day, even if he looked better than usual.