Work Text:
The study room was supposed to be quiet.
Supposed to be.
Charlie had made a point of this about ten minutes ago, slamming his textbook shut and muttering something about “actual studying.” But that had been before Neil and Todd had started talking about The Outsiders. Again.
Now, Neil was sitting sideways in his chair, knees pulled up, gesturing animatedly with a pencil while Todd listened with wide, bright eyes.
“No, but listen,” Neil said, bouncing slightly in place. “Johnny Cade doesn’t die in my version. He lives. He gets better, he grows his hair back out, he starts a band with Ponyboy. Like, garage rock, early R.E.M. energy. Tell me that wouldn’t be brilliant.”
Todd blinked up from his notes. “That’s actually- you know what? Yeah. That makes sense. Johnny always felt like he’d write lyrics, you know? Sad ones. But not hopeless. Like Morrissey.”
Across the room, Knox muttered, “Are they okay?”
Charlie didn’t look up from his notebook. “Define ‘okay.’”
Meeks snorted quietly, while Pitts just sighed, already used to the background hum of Neil and Todd’s universe.
Neil leaned closer to Todd, still rambling. “And Ponyboy’s, like, totally the type to get obsessed with metaphors and poetry and never shut up about it-”
“That’s literally you,” Todd interrupted before he could stop himself.
Neil froze mid-gesture, eyes wide, and then broke into a grin that looked like it could power the entire school. “Literally me,” he echoed, softly, like he’d just been handed a gift. “And you’re Johnny.”
The others exchanged glances. Charlie mouthed, what the hell is wrong with them? Knox shrugged helplessly.
But Neil and Todd didn’t notice. They were already spiraling into another tangent. This time about The Breakfast Club.
“Allison Reynolds,” Todd said suddenly, fiddling with his pen. “She’s, uh-” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… kind of trans-coded, don’t you think?”
Neil tilted his head, curious.
“I mean,” Todd went on, “the way she hides herself, changes her clothes, albeit it being only to impress Andrew, and then everyone only notices her once she looks ‘normal.’ It’s like- she was already there, she just wanted to be seen.”
Neil went quiet for a long moment, expression softening. Then he smiled, gaze flickering somewhere distant. “That’s literally me. That- that whole thing you said? My whole existence. She’s so me.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
Todd laughed, but it came out gentle. “Yeah,” he said. “I figured you’d say that.”
From the other side of the room, Charlie dropped his pen. “Okay, are they talking in code now?”
Meeks whispered, “I think they’re bonding.”
“Over… what?”
Pitts shrugged. “Being weird?”
Neil and Todd had migrated closer together somehow, their knees nearly touching. Their conversation had drifted; now they were gushing over The Smiths.
“It’s just- Morrissey sounds like he’s always about to cry, but, like, beautifully,” Neil said, twirling the pencil between his fingers.
Todd smiled faintly. “You like him ‘cause he’s dramatic.”
“I like him ‘cause he feels everything loudly,” Neil countered. “And he makes being dramatic look like a superpower.”
Todd’s smile turned shy. “You already do that.”
That shut Neil up for a good few seconds, which was an accomplishment in itself.
Later that week, they were sitting outside after class, the sky a flat kind of gray that made the brick walls glow warm. Todd had his jacket zipped all the way up, fingers tugging at the cuffs. Neil had sprawled on the grass, legs crossed, humming something under his breath. Most likely Billy Joel.
A soft breeze tugged at Todd’s hair. He flinched slightly when it hit the back of his neck.
Neil noticed immediately. “Too cold?”
Todd shook his head quickly. “No, it’s just the sound of the wind. It’s sharp today.”
Neil didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he pulled his scarf off and looped it loosely around Todd’s neck, tucking the ends in with surprising care. “Better?”
Todd hesitated. “You’ll be cold.”
Neil grinned. “I’ll survive. Besides, I run warm. Perpetually.”
Todd ducked his head, cheeks pink. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Accurate,” Neil said brightly. Then, after a pause, softer: “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me, okay? I can help. I like helping.”
Todd’s throat tightened a little. “You already do.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Just sat together, listening to Talking Heads through Neil’s battered cassette player. Todd leaned his head on Neil’s shoulder, and Neil’s hand found his automatically. Neither of them looked at the other; they didn’t need to.
When a loud bell rang in the distance, Todd winced at the sound. Without missing a beat, Neil reached up and covered his ear gently with his palm, thumb brushing his hair. It was such a small, thoughtless gesture. But, it was protective, instinctive. Todd smiled faintly against Neil’s sleeve.
The next study session, the group was all there again. Charlie was halfway through a sarcastic remark about algebra when Neil and Todd came in together, laughing about something no one else understood.
“…and then the way Beetlejuice just, like, exists? It’s chaos but organized chaos,” Neil said, throwing his hands up. “He’s not evil, he’s just loud.”
“Literally you,” Todd muttered.
“Exactly!” Neil said, proud. “He’s literally me.”
Charlie groaned, dropping his head to the table with a whack. He sat up and rubbed his head. “They’re evolving into each other’s tastes...”
“Just let them be,” Meeks said, smiling slightly. “They’re happy.”
Neil and Todd had found their spot by the window, pressed close together as they talked. Every few minutes, Neil’s voice would rise in excitement, Todd’s softer one following like harmony.
Todd reached out absently to straighten the cuff of Neil’s sleeve, the gesture so natural it made Knox glance over with a tiny smile.
“They’re definitely a thing now, right?” he whispered.
Charlie stopped rubbing his head just long enough to say, “If they aren’t, the universe itself is lying.”
At some point, Neil started humming again, a quiet thread of a tune under his breath. Todd joined in, softly, both of them smiling without realizing it. It wasn’t anything big, the way they fit together. It was just… natural. Like rhythm. Like a song you didn’t have to learn.
By the time the others packed up, Neil and Todd were still there, notebooks forgotten, talking about Queen and Stand By Me and what they wanted to be when they grew up.
“I think,” Neil said, thoughtful, “I just want to make something that feels alive. Like music, or theatre, or- just- just something that makes people feel seen.”
Todd nodded, watching him with that soft, steady look he reserved for Neil alone. “You already do that.”
Neil’s grin was slow this time, quieter. “You always know exactly what to say.”
“Not really,” Todd murmured, leaning closer. “Just… with you, it’s easy.”
Neil’s laughter came out as a whisper against his lips.
Outside, the wind rattled the windows. Inside, the study room was quiet again, as it was supposed to be.
And so Neil and Todd spent their days at Welton, a perfect storm of chaos and tender care, discovering new shared obsessions, comforting each other in small, essential ways, and falling quietly, completely, in love.