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Neil looks at the gun and thinks about his wide-open bedroom window.
He could just leave that way. Sure, it would only serve to piss his father off more, but he could do it.
Or he could die out in the snow, let them wonder what happened to him instead of handing them all the answers.
He doesn't want to do that to his friends–they'll be on edge all winter break, waiting to hear if he's been found, if he's dead or alive.
He leaves the crown in his bedroom when he climbs out his window, but his father's gun is tucked into his waistband.
Neil runs part of the way to warm himself up. And because he needs to get to Welton before his parents wake up and realize that he’s gone.
He wants to go see his friends, but he knows he can’t afford to cause a commotion right now.
He goes to Keating, instead.
“Neil? What are you–did you run away?”
“Kind of?” He’s still in his pants from the play and one of the few shirts he has in his bedroom. “I needed to get out. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Come in, it’s cold. I’ll get you some tea.”
“My father is sending me to military school.” Neil says. “He doesn’t care what I have to say. I can’t live like that, Captain, I can’t be trapped. I’d rather die first.
“I-I was going to. I took my father’s gun from his desk.”
“Neil, do you have that gun with you?”
Neil lifts his shirt–his hands are shaking–pulls the gun from his waistband, and sets it on the desk between them.
“You know, I presume, what shooting yourself with this would do? What dying means?” Keating asks, softly.
“I would never see my friends again. I would never act again. But I’m not going to act again, regardless. My father won’t allow it, and he won’t allow me to see the others, either. I don’t want to leave them behind, I don’t want to leave anyone behind. I just don’t have a choice. There’s one way out of the cage he’s put me in. ”
He’ll never find out if the one kiss he and Todd shared–‘for luck’, Todd had whispered before he left for Henley Hall–will go anywhere further. They’ve been building to it for a while, glances turning into stares, study groups turning into study dates, sleepless nights turning into sleeping next to each other. Sometimes, they’ll hold hands in the safety of their dorm, or tucked into a corner of the cave. If any of their friends have noticed, they haven’t said anything.
Keating is silent for a minute. Neil appreciates that he doesn’t immediately tell him that there’s another way out.
“This is a faster death than military school, anyway.” Neil mutters.
“Why me, instead of your friends?”
“They’ll be excited, loud, and someone will wake up, and then my father will be called.”
“How long do you have until your disappearance is discovered?”
“I’m not sure. I know Father intends on coming up here to unenroll me tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“I’m to go to Braden Military Academy as soon as possible.” Neil spits the words. He hates them.
“You cannot hide here, Neil. You know that.”
“I do. I’m not asking for that.”
“I don’t think your father would take kindly to me approaching him on this matter.”
“No, he wouldn’t. There aren’t many people he’ll let mention it. Charlie, or one of his parents, might have the best chance.”
And even that is slim.
“He didn’t seem too eager to talk to Charlie tonight.”
“No, but that was in the moment. I don’t know. It’s hopeless.” Neil should have stayed in his father’s office.
“You wouldn't be here if you thought it was hopeless.”
“It is.” He snatches the gun off the desk. “I'm sorry, Mr. Keating, I really am, but I have to go.”
“You know I can't let you leave with that.”
“Then don't look.” Neil still opens the door quietly–no one else knows he's here, yet, and he'd rather keep it that way.
Charlie’s on the other side, hand raised to knock.
“Mr. Keating, I wanted to–Neil?”
“Hey, Charlie.” He says, softly. Todd is further back in the hallway. “Todd.”
“Neil, why do you have a gun?” Charlie stares at him, but doesn’t move away.
“That’s what Neil and I were just discussing.” Keating says smoothly.
“How did you get here, it’s the middle of the night–”
“I know, Charlie.”
“What did your father do?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Neil, you aren’t–you can’t–”
“I can’t be trapped either, Charlie.”
“You won’t be. My parents, they like you, they’ll–”
“They have expectations too, Charlie.”
“My mom was at the play, she called me about it after. She asked if you were doing the next one, she can talk my father around.”
“That doesn’t mean she can talk my father around, though.”
“Why don’t we all step back inside before anyone else wakes up?” Keating puts a hand on Neil’s shoulder, taking the gun with the other.
Neil’s hands feel weightless without it.
“Todd, Charlie, come in.” Keating guides Neil to sit down, never taking his hand off his shoulder.
“Neil,” Todd whispers, his voice and Neil’s heart cracking at the same time. “Neil, you can’t mean–”
“He’s tried before.” Charlie cuts through the resulting silence, after Todd can’t finish his sentence. “Not with a gun, though.”
“I wasn’t trying, Charlie, not that time.”
“It was close enough.”
“Neil, do you know what time your parents typically wake up in the morning?”
“Charlie, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Call them, as soon as possible.” Keating says, impossibly calm. Todd grips Neil’s hand, hard, and his face is so pale Neil wonders if he’s going to be sick. “Neil, you’ll have to do the same.”
“My father will come and get me as soon as I call. And then you’ll never see me again.”
“I could ask my parents to call him–say you’re asleep, or something, and that you’ve had a hard night so I don’t want to wake you.” Charlie suggests. He sits on the floor next to Neil’s chair. “We can… we can fix it, Neil.”
“Not so long as my father wants to send me to military school.”
“You’re too good for that, Neil,” Charlie says.
“You’re too good for death,” Todd adds.
“He’s not going to die, boys.” Keating says. “And, hopefully, we can get you out of military school as well.” Neil doesn’t watch him put the gun away.
“What should I tell my parents? What should Neil say?”
“You should tell them what happened tonight–that Neil, after the play, no longer felt safe in his home and ran back to Welton.”
“Lie to them?”
“It’s not a lie if he was going to kill himself,” Todd says. “It’s not.”
“It’s not a lie, period.” Neil whispers–not that anyone else knows that yet. His father hasn’t belted him in a few years now–his hands are quicker and less likely to leave questionable marks.
“Okay. Say it’s been a long night, he’s asleep, what else?” Charlie’s writing it down–he doesn’t take more notes than he needs to in class, but he’s writing this down. For Neil.
Of all the things to make him cry tonight, it’s that.
Todd doesn’t hesitate to hug him, and Neil wants to go back to their dorm and squeeze onto one of their tiny beds and maybe kiss him once or twice and go to sleep.
It’s at war with the part of him that’s screaming that’s all going to end up with him in a trap, wanting to die.
Before the play, before Keating, he didn’t care either way if he lived or died. Most of the time, at least.
Charlie, Pitts, Meeks, Knox, Cameron–they tried, with what little information they had. Teenage boys aren’t psychiatrists, though, and Neil is a far better liar than any of them think he is.
(The trick is to be bad at lying about the little things, things that don’t matter, and then no one will know to look for the big lies.)
“You’re going to be all right, Neil.” Keating says, somewhere over his sobbing, muffled as it is into Todd’s shoulder.
He still doesn’t see how–tomorrow morning, his father is going to drag him back home, and he’s going to be shipped off to military school and then Harvard and by the time he’s done, he’ll be unrecognizable by anyone who once knew him well.
He’s too worked up to even choke the words out. The sound of Charlie writing stops, and he crowds into their hug.
Keating lets him cry himself out before insisting they go back to their dorms. “You have to get at least some sleep tonight. I know it doesn’t seem like the right course of action, but would your parents answer the phone this late, Charlie?”
“No, probably not. Not unless I called a dozen times, and they heard it ringing from their bedroom.”
“Unless Neil has more he’d like to tell us, there is nothing more we can do. Tomorrow will be busy, and we will need our rest.”
Neil shakes his head. He’s too tired to talk more. And he doesn’t want to start crying again.
Keating walks them up to their dorms. Charlie lingers at his door until Cameron starts to wake and grumble. Todd takes the time to help Neil into proper pajamas.
“Neil,” Todd whispers, cradling him like he’s something precious and not someone who was going to shoot himself mere hours ago, “Neil, would you really have…”
“Yes.” He whispers back. “Then I ran here, instead. Keating asked if I knew what dying meant. I do, Todd, I really do. I don’t want to leave you. Or anyone. But I won’t let myself be trapped, either. If I go to military school, you’ll never see me again, anyway.”
“If you go to military school, we can write. We can call. If you die, I’ll be left writing poems for a boy I’ll forever be asking questions about.”
“I’m sorry,” Neil can’t think of anything else to say. With Charlie, he could make a joke, and Charlie would lean into it. Todd won’t. Not about this.
“I know.” Todd says. He kisses Neil’s forehead, just once. “Keating’s right. We should sleep.”
Neil doesn’t tell him that tonight, their normal cure for his insomnia won’t work–but the forehead kiss might be the real cure, because his eyes slip closed before he tells them to.
It’s late, when Charlie knocks on their door. Neil doesn’t know how he kept everyone else away–or maybe they had knocked, earlier, and neither of them heard it–but Charlie doesn’t leave until they open the door.
“Sleep well?”
“A lot better than I thought I would.” Neil admits. “Did you…”
“I called my parents already,” He confirms. “My mom’s gonna call back after she talks to your mom.”
“My father will be pissed that I didn’t call them first.”
“It’s nearly noon, Neil. He hasn’t called yet, and no one’s seen him pull up. We’re watching the parking lot.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t show up to drag me out of bed.”
“That’s my job. Get dressed, it’s time for lunch,” Charlie orders.
“Wait, Charlie–what do the others know?”
“Not much. Just that you showed up last night, cold and wet, and went back to your dorm. According to them, that’s all I know, too. They probably won’t ask too many questions at lunch.”
But later, Neil knows, will be a different story.
Todd and Charlie sit on either side of him, as if they can physically block the questions he can see on their friends’ faces.
None of them get asked, at least not verbally. They praise him about the play, over and over, each recounting their favorite moment.
It’s a lot, and he finds himself wanting to take Todd’s hand under the table.
Their dorm and the cave is one thing. At the lunch table?
Forget his father, Nolan would have them in his office in a heartbeat, paddle out.
Neil doesn’t get to slip away after lunch, either. First, Charlie’s mom wants to talk to him, and then to Charlie again.
“She’s coming to Welton today,” Charlie tells them. Neil barely hears it–she’d talked to his father, she said. Not his mother, his father.
And had gotten him to come around. Or least let Neil stay at Welton and keep acting.
Neil doesn’t know how.
He’s not sure he wants to know.
She only really talks to Neil for a minute while she’s there, spending most of her time in Keating’s office.
It’s not until Charlie relaxes that Neil realizes what she was doing.
Getting, rather.
“Is she really going to–”
“Yeah. Someone has to, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be your father. Besides, it means she can talk to him in person.”
“He’s at work, probably.”
“It’s Saturday, Neil.”
“I don’t know, he works Saturdays sometimes. So does your dad.”
“Not that often.”
No amount of Todd’s forehead kisses can make sleep come easily that night, Neil’s mind turning over scenarios for when his father finally decides to pay him a visit.
That time is late the next day–long enough that Neil knows he’s dragging it out, making him wait. Maybe thinking that Neil would call him or come home if he waited long enough.
“Father.”
“Neil. I was… informed, yesterday, by your classmate’s mother that you stole my gun and intended to shoot yourself with it.”
“Yes, sir.” Neil says.
“All because of this acting nonsense?”
“I’m not going to military school, sir.”
“Your mother has been crying all weekend.”
“I didn’t mean to make her cry, sir.”
“Didn’t you? You’re right, you’re not going to military school. Before I came up here, your mother told me that if you were dead, she’d be crying a lot more.”
Well, Neil thinks, that does make sense. People usually cry when their kids die.
He’s not sure if his father would, but he doesn’t ask.
“You can stay at Welton. And to acting, so long as your grades stay all As. If you have so much as one A-minus, you will no longer be permitted to act.”
“I understand, sir.” His father stares at him for a long moment.
“I hope you do.”
Neil doesn’t go down for dinner after, staring at his hands while sitting in Todd’s bed.
“He’s letting you stay?” Todd asks, jerking Neil out of his silence.
“He’s letting me stay. And keep acting.” Of course, Neil’s father doesn’t know that that means he gets to keep Todd as well.
“You didn’t need a kiss for luck this time,” Todd says.
“Do the forehead kisses count?”
“No. I didn’t say those were for luck.”
“You could still give me another one for luck, now. We have exams this week, after all.”
Not that Neil’s been particularly worried about them. They should join the others for a study group tonight.
After dinner, though, neither of them even pretend to follow their friends to study together.
“It’s been a while since we had a study date.” Neil murmurs, eyes closed where his head is on Todd’s chest.
“You’re not getting any studying done.”
“How hard can the exams be?”
“Neil, don’t make me go study with the others.”
“Fine.” It’s an empty threat, he’s pretty sure.
It works anyway, like the hundreds of empty threats Todd makes after that.
It takes months, years, decades, but Neil forgets the feeling of wanting to die, eventually.
He never has to forget the feeling of Todd’s hand in his, or his lips on Neil’s brow.