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Autumn clung to Welton like ivy to stone. Leaves grazed against the dormitory windows, the air sharp with the promise of frost. The trees burned gold and crimson, as if the campus was on fire. It was October, and the hallways were still, but the dormitories echoed with chatter.
"Through the forest have I gone./ But Athenian found I none,/ On whose eyes I might approve/This flower's force in stirring love. Night… night…" Neil stuttered. "Line?"
The two were seated on Neil's bed, side by side, the radiator hissing and popping, not quite keeping out the chill.
"Night and silence. —Who is here?" Todd recited, tracing the words on the script, gripping it in his hands as he glanced up at Neil, who put his head in his palms.
Neil groaned. "I can't get this right, I mean, I feel like I've been doing this for weeks on end and still can't remember these stupid lines. Maybe this was a mistake."He placed his glasses on the bedside table and rubbed his temple with his hands before collapsing back on to the bed, his head resting against the pillow.
Todd leaned over Neil, shaking his head with a furrowed brow. "Why would you ever say that? You're fantastic! Every actor takes lots of time to learn their lines, that's how you know they really know their character. You can't give up now." Todd raised an eyebrow at Neil, who rolled his eyes and curled the corner of his mouth into a slight smile.
Neil sat up and threw the pillow at Todd, who shouted as it smacked him in the face. He held up the pillow like a shield in a defensive stance. He laughed before lowering the pillow on to his lap, his voice taking a more serious tone.
"C'mon Neil..be patient with yourself, you're good, you're really good."
Neil's smile widened, cocking his head.
"Clearly not when you're watching," Neil joked, taking the script from his friend.
"Oh, well guess I'll just not help you practice anymore" Todd teased, turning away.
Neil gasped in playful offense. "Just kidding, I don't know where I'd be without my faithful prompter." Neil gave Todd a quick squeeze on the shoulder before their moment was interrupted by the bell, ringing out and signifying it was time for class.
Todd sighed, shutting his eyes briefly before standing up, gathering his materials and following the other out the door to class.
"facio…facis…facit…facimus…facitis…faciunt…"
Mr. Mcallister had been droning on and on for half an hour now and Neil could feel his eyelids falling under the weight of his boredom. His voice was like a metronome, flat and steady, enough to lull the whole class into a stupor.
Neil tapped his pencil against his desk, his eyelids heavy with boredom. He always felt himself slipping away at the end of the day, holding on solely for the promise of dinner. Beside him, Todd was hunched over his desk in deep concentration, eyes fixated on his notebook, copying each form diligently. His lips moved faintly, sounding out the words.
At last the bell rang, the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling filling the room as the boys poured out into the halls.
"It's truly endless," Charlie muttered, tugging at his collar. "If I have to listen to one more dead verb I'll start conjugating my own goddamn epitaph."
"Here lies Dalton, facio, facis, fecit," Meeks quipped, Knox and Pitts bursting into laughter in response.
Neil came up behind Charlie and clapped him on the shoulder. "Save your brains for later. Study group tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Charlie replied, his eyes rolling.
The other Poets nodded one by one, exchanging glances before making their way to dinner.
The dining hall buzzed with clattering plates and chatter, the long wooden tables gleaming under the warm light. Steam rose from bowls of mashed potatoes and warm stew, littering the tables. Neil sat down on the bench next to Todd, who was already poking at his suspiciously gray food. Charlie launched himself onto the seat across from them.
He stabbed a carrot with his fork before announcing: "Welton cuisine—the only thing more soul-crushing than Headmaster Nolan's voice," sending Meeks into a coughing fit of laughter.
Pitts nudged Meeks with his elbow. "You're going to choke before you even start eating."
Charlie cleared his throat. "Due to the tragic loss of my will to live in Latin, I propose we revive ourselves in the only way we know how."
Knox gasped theatrically. "A seance?"
"No you idiot. The cave." Charlie replied, raising an eyebrow,
"But aren't we supposed to have study group tonight?" Cameron rolled his eyes, unsure once again about their secret meetings.
"We are studying. For English." Knox flung his arm around Cameron who sighed.
"Fine."
The boys whooped, which was quickly silenced by a loud shush from Nolan. They quieted their giggles, exchanging excited anticipatory glances.
That night, the cave was alive with the voices of the Poets: their lamp illuminating the walls, shadows stretching across the damp stone. Meeks and Pitts emptied their pockets, snacks and cigarettes clattering to the floor. Charlie quickly reached for one and lighted it before stepping into the circle and spreading his arms like a preacher.
"Gentlemen," he declared. "I present to you- artistry."
"God help us," Knox groaned, still smiling.
Neil struck a match and lit their lantern, gold spilling onto the boys faces in the pale moonlight, softening the frozen air of the cave. He then settled next to Todd, their shoulders almost touching, just close enough so that he could feel his warmth. Todd ducked his head, eyes fixed on Charlie.
Charlie swiped a book from his coat, flipping through the pages dramatically.
"Hear, hear!" The cave suddenly fell silent, the other boys watching Charlie intently."
"Invictus- William Ernest Henley," he began. "Out of the night that covers me,/ Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be/ For my unconquerable soul./ In the fell clutch of circumstance/ I have not winced nor cried aloud./ Under the bludgeons of chance/ My head is bloody, but unbowed."
Charlie then stood up, shaking his fists for his grand finale. "It matters not how strait the gate,/ how charged with punishments the scroll,/ I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul!" The boys applauded their friend, who then sat down, yielding the floor to Knox, who chose to read something terribly sappy and romantic.
"Your turn, Perry," Knox said once he was done.
Neil lit up, and took a stand. He raised his book and launched into an excerpt from a Midsummer Night's Dream with his dramatic flair, switching between voices as he recited. The other poets cheered him on—even Todd laughed—reallylaughed—their voices echoing in the little cave.
When Neil sat back down, Todd leaned in, whispering audibly just enough to hear, "You're amazing."
Neil swallowed, his heart briefly stuttering. "Only when you're watching," he whispered back, twisting his face into a grin that made Todd's breath hitch.
And then Charlie started to cough aggressively on his cigarette and the moment disappeared, swallowed by the joy and chaos by the six boys who, briefly, forgot that morning would ever come, feeling more alive than they ever did in the light of day.
Much later, they scrambled back to their dorms, stifling their laughter as they slipped down the hall to their rooms. Cameron tripped over Pitt's foot, Charlie shushing him immediately with the force of a king.
One by one, doors quietly shut.
Neil collapsed on his bed, exhausted from class and rehearsal and poetry. Within seconds, his breathing softened, drifting off to sleep.
Todd, however, sat at his desk, immersed in his notebook. The moon spilled pale light across his fingers, which hovered over the page, gripping his pen, before he began to write. Lines of autumn, of fire-colored leaves, of eyes that were brighter than a flame, of a smile that turned the leaves.
Lines he'd never say aloud.
He paused when he finished, reading the words over and over again, slightly trembling. He folded the page with circumspection then reverently tucked it beneath the leaves of his notebook, sealing it away from everyone but him. He blew out the lamp, and the room fell silent.