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Todd had never really gotten the chance to appreciate the cleanliness of the bathrooms near the dining hall on the bottom floor of Welton— mostly because he avoided going to the toilet during lessons so he wouldn’t have to raise his hand in class and ask —and the rest of the time he usually found himself either in his and Neil’s dorm or in the study hall, so the upstairs bathrooms were the ones he frequented the most.
Still, there was a first time for everything, and in his current state he could most definitely confirm that the bathroom tiles were pretty clean.
He pressed his back into the corner further away from the entrance, half-hidden behind the row of sinks, and willed himself to focus on the glow of the overhead light reflecting off of the one tile right beside his foot— And it was hard with the way his vision kept blurring around the edges, his heart pounding so hard it felt like his whole body was shaking with it.
He hated this, hated when it happened, and why did everything always have to happen to him?
Todd shuddered, shaking himself in an attempt at erasing the feeling of his classmates’ eyes on his back.
“Mr. Anderson, I asked you to name the first five elements of the periodic table and their oxidation number.”
Todd’s mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to his palate. The teacher had asked him a question, and he knew the answer— Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, and Boron. The first five elements of the periodic table.
His lips parted but no sound made it past his throat, his voice stuck there like a massive boulder.
Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron. Their oxidation numbers respectively plus-one, zero, zero or plus-one, plus-two and plus-three.
He tried to breathe, in and out, but his whole body felt frozen, like he’d been turned into stone— One of those greek statues made out of white marble Pitts had shown him the pictures of, the other day.
His thoughts raced fast, almost too quick for him to latch onto.
Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium BerylliumBoron—
He'd never be like those men Greek mythology talked about— They were too big, too proud. Tragically fallen heroes standing tall, the primest depictions of virtus, forever there for man to remember.
“I— Um… The f-first is— It's, it's hydrogen…”
“You need to speak up Mr. Anderson, I can't hear you!”
His face was burning with shame, and he couldn't help but drop his gaze down to the crevices running through the wood of his desk.
He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on his back— curse him for ending up in the first row —and the weight of their gazes made him shrink in his seat.
“Last chance to answer, Mr. Anderson, or else I'll have it noted that you weren't able to answer my question.”
He felt sick to his stomach, shame rising up his throat like bile.
His lips trembled as he spoke again.
“H-hydrogen, Helium, Lit-lithium, um, B-berilli…”
The bell sounded in the hallway, signaling the end of the period, and while his voice had been a little louder than before it still got overpowered easily by the shrill noise.
The teacher just looked at him and sighed, before nodding— He'd gotten off easy this time, but he didn't know how long teachers would keep putting up with it.
His classmates had started chatting amongst each other somewhere behind him, and yet he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Of being stared at.
He thought of Hercules, of Achilles, of Heracles— Strong, smart, brave.
He really was the furthest thing there was from that.
He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head quickly as it would help get rid of the lingering feeling of pure shame and embarrassment that had followed him as he’d ran out of the classroom and speed-walked past the dining hall to hide in the bathrooms.
Always empty during this time of the day, it was the only place he felt was adequate enough to have one of his breakdowns in.
His chest ached, heart full of pure dread, and as much as he told himself it would be over soon he couldn’t seem to calm down at all.
His palms had started to sweat despite how cold his hands felt, the hair rising at the back of his neck as he was overwhelmed by sheer wrongness.
His vision blurred at the edges, the faint sounds coming from the hallway turning to static, and nothing felt like it was working properly anymore.
Someone had taken a huge spoon and scooped the organs right out of his body, leaving him hollow. And yet he felt sick, gut churning as the world spun around him.
His surroundings blurred until he was all that was left, him and the bottomless pit on his chest.
And then there was a hand, on his shoulder. The weight of it enough to pull him out of his own head, just for a moment.
“Todd? Hey.” Someone tried to get his attention, a familiar voice.
Neil.
The realization cut through the thick fog in his brain like a knife through butter, and he held his knees closer to his chest.
The hand on his shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze, and Todd could feel the warmth of it through the thick fabric of his sweater.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” And there was so much concern in Neil's voice, the words thick with worry, and Todd tried to open his mouth, tried to answer— But the words were lodged inside his throat and all he could manage were a few wheezy breaths.
He wanted to open his eyes, to see Neil— Wanted to tell him that no, he wasn't sick even though he'd had to swallow bile a few times since he'd sat down there.
Todd managed a little shake of his head, and Neil had always been good at understanding him even when he made it difficult, but he didn't know if it would be enough this time.
He wasn't sick, he just was and this whole thing was his normal. His chest felt like it'd shrunk to half his size and it trembled with every heaving breath he tried to suck in.
Tears welled behind his eyes, and stubborn, he shut them harder.
There was nothing to cry about, nothing worth panicking over, and yet here he was, never normal enough to listen to reason and caring too much about things that did not matter—
A freak, he was. He'd always been.
He could feel Neil's hand rub gently at his shoulder in what should've probably been a comforting gesture, but all it did was make him more upset with himself.
He didn't deserve the kindness nor was he worth all this care and effort— And yet his heart ached, pounding and clawing at the walls of his chest, his ribs the bars of a cage.
Help me, it begged, hungry like a starved animal.
And Todd wasn't strong enough to deny it when it bared sharp teeth.
Help me help me helpme—
“Did I ever tell you about the time Charlie and I got trapped on the rooftop?”
Through the cacophony of thoughts, the absurdity of the statement made him pause.
Welton has a rooftop?
And before the depths of his mind could reel him back in, Neil had launched himself into the most detailed retelling of their craziest story from sophomore year.
The boy had a way with stories, and Todd couldn't help but listen, and listen. And by the time the anecdote was told, his breathing had slowed all the way down to normal and all that was left was the faint trembling of his hands.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times against the harsh light, and as soon as his gaze met Neil's the other smiled reassuringly.
“Hello there.”
Todd swallowed dryly before straightening up a little, and watched intently as Neil exhaled what looked like a shaky breath of relief.
It made his heart clench, but the feeling was quickly chased away when the other moved from his crouched down position to sit with his back against the wall, right beside where Todd was sitting.
The silence between them lasted only for the time it took his brain to catch up with reality, and then he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay.
“How did you… How’d you do that?” The wonder had yet to leave Todd, but there wasn’t any trace of panic left in his veins. Only a little bit of tiredness.
Neil hummed softly, as if he was turning the words over in his brain before saying them out loud.
“It’s like… You were scared, but there wasn’t anything to be scared of, so I just had to take your mind off of it.”
Todd was sure his eyes couldn’t open any wider, and had it been anyone else but Neil they probably would’ve felt uncomfortable with his staring.
The other just smiled, a tiny, crooked grin. “Fear of feeling fear.”
That was… Exactly what the doctor had told his parents.
They’d had him checked. Once. After he’d almost passed out during one of their fancy gatherings with their even fancier friends. The ones where they forced him into uncomfortable clothes and had him greet and talk to twenty different people one after the other.
It was one of the most embarrassing memories of his life, and all he’d gotten out of it had been his father telling him that he needed to grow up and deal with these episodes without embarrassing them, like the adult he was about to become.
“H-how did you know all that?”
Neil shrugged, and Todd could feel it as their shoulders brushed together. It made him look away for a moment.
“Brains are interesting— If I have to be a doctor, I want to be one that helps people who feel unhappy.”
Todd turned towards him, and found his friend staring at the floor, almost looking bashful.
His heart did a little flip inside his chest at the sight, and if he didn’t know any better he’d think that his episode might’ve been trying to come back.
“I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“It is! I think.” Todd watched as a crease appeared between Neil's eyebrows, and suddenly deep brown eyes were looking into his.
“Does this stuff happen to you often?”
And there it was, the guilt. It slammed into his chest hard enough to make his breath catch, just for a moment.
“Um,” he looked away, focusing on the front of his shoes. They were worn, the rubber tip yellowish instead of white and covered in faint scratches that wouldn’t wash away.
He took a glance at Neil’s shoes— his roommate wore Converse, too, just like Jeffrey had while growing up which meant they got passed down onto Todd —and he found that albeit a little dirty, they were in pristine condition. “It happens, sometimes.”
Sometimes was a vague enough answer. A safe one.
Some could mean once a year, which was an answer that wouldn’t make Neil worry too much, even though the version of sometimes that was closer to reality was actually hovering near once every few weeks. Once every couple of weeks, during particularly stressful periods.
And yet, once he gathered enough courage to check Neil’s face to gauge a reaction, he was met with a frown.
“Oh,” the brunette whispered, and Todd felt his face flush. “That’s… I’m sorry Todd. That must feel awful.”
And Todd swore his heart doubled in size, swelling with adoration for the boy sitting beside him.
It was astonishing how sweet Neil could be, how kind and thoughtful he always was.
How he, somehow, always knew to say exactly what Todd needed to hear before he, himself, even knew he needed to hear it.
“It’s okay— Really. D-Don't worry about it.”
Truly, it was the last thing Todd wanted. To have Neil waste his time trying to fix something that wasn't a problem.
“What? No way!”
And really, he should've expected it. Neil was nothing if not stubborn— But the genuine care he found on his face was almost too much for him to handle.
“Neil, it's fine—”
“Next time, come get me.”
Todd stared at him, dumfounded.
“You— What?” He asked, trying to wrap his head around this.
Surely Neil didn't mean…
“You heard me! Next time you start feeling all like…” The other gestured vaguely in Todd's direction, before smiling like he'd just come up with the best plan of his whole life.
“You come find me, so I can help you again.”
There was no way.
“Neil—” He couldn't help but laugh, the sound coming out slightly bitter.
“You’re crazy. What?” He shook his head at the silliness of it all.
Nobody would want to deal with this, and Neil really needed to stop being so damn selfless.
There was nothing about Todd that would make it worth sitting with him as he wasted time trying to remember how to breathe, for God's sake.
He huffed, looking away and down towards his own knees.
His legs had slowly slid further away from his body as he'd relaxed, his muscles no longer holding onto so much tension.
“Todd.”
It almost made him angry to think that out of anyone that could've found out, it had to be Neil.
Neil who would bend over backwards to help the people he cared about. Neil who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer if he thought he could help in any way even though he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, because this was the way things had been ever since he could remember and Todd really wasn’t worth the effort—
“Todd.”
He met Neil's eyes ever so slowly, and his heart ached at the amount of concern he found in them.
He didn’t deserve it, he really really didn’t.
“I’m serious, you know?”
And Todd did, he did know.
During the summer before the start of his junior year Todd had promised himself things would be different this time. Different than they had been back in Balincrest.
Trying to make friends wasn’t of any use. He’d learned his lesson through years of betrayals, of whispers as he passed by in the hallways, years of people making snide comments. A shove or two during soccer practice, some of them leaving him with bruises.
And Todd knew he was weird, quiet, that he kept to himself more than he should, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
As long as his grades were good enough his parents didn’t bother calling, that’s how it had always been, so it wasn’t like he’d gotten the chance to talk to anyone about it. Not until he’d ended up with a broken wrist after being pushed in the bathroom while they’d been supposed to shower after soccer.
He still didn’t know what hurt more: cruelty or indifference.
And so he’d made his choice of prioritizing safety over the craving for human connection that had been silently eating away at him from the inside, and Welton had come. And with it came heavy textbooks and opening speeches and so many unfamiliar faces.
And with it, had come Neil Perry.
Neil Perry who had made it a mission to include him in everything he and his little group of friends did, even though during the first few weeks getting a few words out of Todd must’ve felt like pulling teeth.
Neil Perry who had, not once, made him feel unwelcome, or unwanted. Who sincerely apologised every time he figured out something he’d done had made Todd uncomfortable.
Neil Perry who had completely changed Todd’s life without resorting to any grand gesture. By just getting to know him and liking who he was.
And that was truly what made Todd pause and consider it. Because honestly, he would have to be totally and utterly stupid not to notice that Neil wasn’t faking this. That he actually enjoyed Todd’s company and valued him as a person.
It felt almost weird to believe it, but it was the undeniable truth.
And yet, a selfish part of him wanted to ask, to know. Not because he didn’t believe Neil would stick by his side, but because he wanted to hear him say it.
“Why do you do this, Neil? What’s the point?” The words came off slightly judgemental, and Todd bit on the side of his cheek, as if to scold himself.
Why try so hard? Why put in so much effort? Why me?
Still, Neil didn’t seem to mind, and a gentle smile took over his face. “Because I want to,” he replied, as easy as breathing.
“The point is that you’re my friend, and I care about you, so I do it.”
And the sky itself could’ve opened up, all stars falling out of it and landing straight into his lap, and still Todd wouldn’t have been able to look away from such a mesmerizing sight.
And that was it, that was it. He knew now.
The look he saw in Neil’s eyes when he walked into a room, the way Todd was the first one Neil always turned to after cracking a joke, the way he smiled when they said goodnight with only the moonlight illuminating the room.
That was it, it was love.
And his first feeling should’ve been grief. Grief for the boy that shined brighter than the sun itself, whose soul belonged to the highest of heavens.
Grief, because Todd had been the victim of speculation and it had almost been enough to ruin him. Grief, because Neil wore his heart on his sleeve, and if Todd noticed then someone else would, too, and that would end terribly.
It should’ve been grief, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was hope.
He tucked the knowledge close to his heart, keeping it for himself.
“Okay,” he whispered, and gave in. Selfish, he truly was.
Neil’s smile only got wider.
“Okay.” The other repeated, and when Todd looked down he noticed their pinkies wrapped around each other, as if to seal a promise.
Selfish, selfish, selfish.
And maybe he was, selfish. The thought made him ridiculously giddy, and he couldn’t help but smile back at his friend.
“Come on, I think there’s still some tile left before lunch is over— I’m sure the others managed to set something aside for us.”
And like that he was pulled up and away from his corner, the two of them giggling as they tripped over their own feet in their hurry to leave that goddamned bathroom behind.
And maybe, just maybe, Todd would allow himself to be a little selfish. Neil was selfless enough for the both of them— They balanced each other out.
But that was something for him to fantasize about later. For now, his stomach growled in hunger, and he had friends waiting for him.