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Todd is smart, he’s really smart. But sometimes, he wished he’d be normal. But he isn’t, and it’s painful to live with.
He woke up at 6 in the morning. He’d usually wake up around 6:30 in the morning, so he just laid there until that time. Neil, his roommate was quietly reading lines from a poetry book. He was grateful for this, as he’d have issues with his sleep during winter. Todd got up, went to the bathroom to do what he had to do and came back with brushed hair.
After getting dressed, they went into the cafeteria to have breakfast. Todd liked breakfast, because they’d always serve the same pancakes, pastries, toast and cereals. He liked how it didn’t change. He served himself with waffles swimming in maple syrup with a glass of milk, like he always did. Routine is comforting. Todd sat down next to Neil with the other poets as they ate. He took his daily dose of Concerta he’d take for as long as he can remember.
“Based on the evaluations we did, Todd exhibits signs of autism spectrum disorder and attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder. I recommend that we start prescribing him…”
“So, he’s gonna be an impulsive wuss all his life because of some mutated genes?” Todd’s father asked, his tone sharp and unloving.
“Robert, don’t be too hard on him.” His mom intervened.
Then he slapped him from jumping on the chair again.
He shook off this memory and continued eating.
***
As he made his way to biology class, his stomach churned with the reminder of his schedule about the physical education class he had this afternoon.
He had laboratory work in teams so he paired with Shaun. None of the poets were in his class, and Shaun was an even shyer student in his class that Todd disliked at first. He’s still uncomfortable around him, but he was stuck. Shaun considered him his friend, and Todd, not to hurt him, said he did too.
After the break, the teacher called working time, where you firstly finished the lab analysis, exercises, and finally then you could work on other things. Todd put on his headphones, immersed himself in his bubble and worked swiftly. There was still time left, so he fished out his pocket-sized book out of the pocket of his pants and started reading it. He didn’t have a lot of time lately to read it, so he was glad he could now.
***
By the time the study period ended, his stomach was heavy with dread. He felt like he was going to get sick or pass out, didn’t know which one yet. Damn digestive system that never cooperates. He dragged himself to the cafeteria, took his food and sat alone. He didn’t have the energy to socialize. After a moment, he finished, put his tray on the pile and made his way to the library, feeling like he was on autopilot.
It was the perfect space for people who wanted peace. Desks aligned with lines of four chairs (even number!) with small couches and armchairs. It wasn’t allowed to have your computer in the couch section and he liked having it to listen to music and read medical pages so he sat in an unoccupied line of chair . Even there, he couldn’t fully relax. The air was too warm and stuffy, people were talking loudly, everyone was moving around as he felt every tiny vibrations on the floor of steps or chairs being pulled around. He shot an annoyed glance around. Why does everyone move around like elephants?
Not being able to support it anymore, he left and went to the lockers. No one was here, so he managed to change without feeling too insecure. After, he settled on the bench and took the same book as earlier.
***
People came in, including Shaun.
“What are you reading?”
“This,” he showed him the book. “The book was inspired by a movie I watched it and I loved it.”
“Oh and like, the p.e teacher said yes but we both have to change teams.”
He thought back about the almost-meltdown he had the first class because he missed one and didn’t hear the rules for the game as the teacher asked him to change teams. Also about how Shaun negotiated to be in the same team as he is.
“Ugh, great.”
Shaun finished getting changed.
“So, are we going?”
“Gotta go to the bathroom first.”
The latter made his way there and the other boy into the gymnasium.
Eventually, Todd went into the gymnasium. He hated it. It was too cold, too much light, noise, people. He saw the teacher along with Shaun.
“So, Shaun will be in your team but you both have to change.”
“Why can’t someone else switch teams with Shaun?”
“It’s gonna cause an imbalance.”
The bell rang and everyone sat in front of the teacher. Todd’s brain didn’t register anything impertinent she said, then it was time to do the godforsaken warm-up.
Running around like an idiot won’t prevent me from spraining my ankle. The warm-up was running back and forth the gymnasium while doing something else. He hated running in front of people. He hated that his body wouldn’t move the way he wanted to. I must look stupid right now. I hate this. He muttered complaints about the safety issues of this warm up as he would bump into people.
When that part was done, it was the stretching. One involved bringing your calf backwards, and that would tug a lot for Todd. He didn’t care, even stretched it back further. It must hurt, it has to hurt, it MUST HURT! He clenched his teeth through the pain. He ignored the warning twinge and held the stretch too long. Pain was simpler than noise, and it was something he had control on. It wasn’t a good habit, but didn’t know how to manage it.
“So, I think the purple would be the best team for you.”
“Why?” Todd asked. He was answered by some other non important blabber with an infantilizing tone from the teacher while he scratched his inner fore arm behind his back. I’m not stupid, talk to me like a proper human being.
With that, they both got dragged into the purple’s team. His stomach churned again.
“I hope we won’t be left on the bench by them again,” Shaun said, close to Todd. God, help me. His breath smells like vomit. Please stop invading my personal space. Todd adverted his gaze and nodded.
The teacher called a switch and they both got into the game. Todd hovered near the goal while Shaun was running around the ball. At some point, he could kick the ball to keep it away. But, he accidentally did it with the front of his foot, the ball and the force squashed his toes slightly. He bit back a cuss from the pain.
“Good job Todd,” said the guy of the other team. Why are you congratulating me? Because you have the sadistic pleasure of seeing people get hurt?
“I did nothing but hurt my foot, I don’t get why you’re felicitating me.”
***
After a few more games passed, it was the last one they could play in. Todd let himself zone out.
“Are you okay, you look sad-I don’t know.” Shaun asked.
Still not having eye contact with him, he sighed. “I just don’t really want to be here.”
“Yeah, me too. But like, I don’t understand, she said it would be the best team for us but like our teammates didn’t switch out with us, should we tell the teacher?”
“Mhm.”
A moment passed before they walked to the teacher.
“Miss, we noticed that like our teammates didn’t do switch outs with us. We tried talking to them, but they ignored us.” Todd said.
“Well, if you’re not comfortable asking them, then ask me to tell them to switch out.”
“So you’re insinuating that it’s somehow our fault because we don’t remove our fingers from our butts to go speak with them?” Todd replied, defensive.
“The problem isn’t always the others. I truly believe you can get along with them if you do an effort. Do you both understand?”
“Yes.” Todd said, unpleased.
Shaun just stood there, staring at Todd. You gotta speak up for yourself man. He eventually nodded.
***
He flopped into his seat of English class, beaten down. Physical education classes would exhaust him even more than having to endure some classmate who didn’t listen to the math teacher and then acts like a victim. His heart nearly stopped about a memory from last week. “Now, in addition to your essays, I would like you to compose a poem of your own, an original work. That's right! You have to deliver it aloud in front of the class on Monday. Bonne chance, gentlemen. Mr. Anderson? Don't think that I don't know that this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole.” He’ll make him go first, it’s certain. But, he didn’t write anything.
“Hi class, as you know, you’ll present a poem you wrote last week,” he wandered around until standing in front of Todd. “Mr. Anderson, I see you sitting there in agony. Come on, Todd, step up. Let's put you out of your misery.”
Fuck. I can’t-
“I, I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem.”
“Now, you don't get away that easy!”
Keating turns Todd around and points out a picture on the wall.
“The picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? Don't think. Answer. Go on.”
Keating begins to circle around Todd.
Why is he spinning me around? I’m gonna puke, I’m gonna puke-
“A m-m-madman.”
“What kind of madman? Don't think about it. Just answer again.”
“A c-crazy madman.”
Make it stop, please.
“No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination. Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's total gibberish. Go on, go on.”
“Uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman.”
What am I even talking about?!
“Good God, boy, there's a poet in you, after all. There, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close 'em. Now, describe what you see.”
Keating puts his hands over Todd's eyes and they begin to slowly
spin around.
Stop making me spin or I’ll puke on someone’s shoe.
“Uh, I-I close my eyes.”
“Yes?”
“Uh, and this image floats beside me.”
“A sweaty-toothed madman?”
“A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.”
“Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something.”
I can’t breathe I’m gonna die-
“H-His hands reach out and choke me.”
“That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.”
Keating removes his hands from Todd but Todd keeps his eyes
closed.
“And, and all the time he's mumbling.”
“What's he mumbling?”
“M-Mumbling, Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."
The students begin to laugh and Todd opens his eyes. Keating
quickly gestures for him to close them again.
Of course they laugh, I’m ridiculous.
“Forget them, forget them. Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket.”
“Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.”
Todd opens his eyes. The class is silent. Then they begin to clap
and cheer. Red with embarrassment, he slumped back onto his seat. His shirt clung to him in the wrong way. I look pathetic. I’m pathetic. He hid his head in his arms as Keating continued bringing people in front of the class.
***
Instead of going in the cafeteria with everyone, he went to his dorm, put on his coat and boots and exited the school. He had a dinner with his parents, and that kept his stomach churned again as he walked to the house. He wished, irrationally, that the walk would take longer. Eventually, he arrived and knocked three times. His mom opened.
“Hi sweetie, come inside! I heard there will be a snowstorm soon, so be careful when you’ll go back to Welton.”
“Will do.”
After removing his coat and boots, he sat at the table and got faced with his father. The clink of cutlery filled the silence. His mother moved between the stove and the table, humming softly, as if sound alone could keep everything in place. Todd kept his eyes on his plate. Roast chicken, potatoes, green beans. The same dinner they always had when he visited.
“How’s school?” his mother asked, too brightly.
“Fine.”
His father cleared his throat. “Grades?”
Todd shrugged. “Still good.”
“Good,” his father said. “That’s what matters.”
Todd nodded and took a bite, chewing longer than necessary. His stomach twisted anyway.
“Sit up straight,” his father said without looking at him.
Todd stiffened and adjusted himself in his chair. The wood creaked. He hated how aware he suddenly was of his body, of his shoulders, of where his hands were supposed to go.
“You don’t need to hunch like that,” his father added. “You’re not a child.”
Todd swallowed. “I’m not hunching.”
His father finally looked at him. “Don’t argue over nothing.”
His mother set a plate in front of Todd a little too quickly. “Eat while it’s warm, okay?”
He nodded and reached for his fork, but his hand hesitated for half a second too long.
“What is that face?” his father asked.
“Nothing.”
“You always do that,” he said. “That look. Like everything is a problem.”
Todd’s chest tightened. “I’m just tired.”
“From what?”
The question landed harder than it should have. Todd stared at his plate. The smell of food suddenly made him nauseous.
“School,” he muttered.
His father scoffed. “School isn’t exhausting. Real work is exhausting.”
Silence fell again. Todd could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Each second felt too loud.
“You need to stop letting things get to you,” his father continued. “You make life harder than it has to be.”
Todd’s grip tightened around his fork. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“Then try harder,” his father said simply.
“I’m doing my best, but it never seems to be enough.”
His father let out a short, humorless breath. “That’s because your ‘best’ isn’t very impressive.”
Todd froze.
“You always have an excuse,” his father continued. “Too tired. Too sensitive. Too overwhelmed. At some point, you stop explaining and start fixing it.”
“I don’t know how,” Todd said, barely louder than the ticking clock.
His father shook his head. “Then that’s on you.”
The words settled heavy in Todd’s chest. His ears rang. The room felt smaller, tighter, like the walls had leaned in while no one was looking. He stared at his plate, at the food he hadn’t touched.
His mother shifted in her chair. “Robert—”
“No,” his father cut in. “He needs to hear it.”
Todd pushed his chair back. The sound scraped too loudly against the floor.
“I need some air,” he said, but it came out wrong — flat, distant, like someone else had spoken for him.
“You haven’t even eaten,” his mother said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s ridiculous,” his father replied. “Sit down.”
“No.”
He put on his boots in a hurry, leaving his coat behind. He ran, he had to get as far as possible. The weather mirrored the storm inside of him. The wind made his eyes water (was it really the wind?), the snow fell in heavy clumps and the cold bit his skin through his shirt. His breath came out in short, uneven clouds. Each inhale burned. His fingers went numb first, then his ears. He hugged his arms around himself as he ran, boots slipping slightly on the icy pavement. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his breaths sharp and erratic.
Don’t stop. If I stop, I’ll have to think.
The world blurred into white and gray and streetlights smeared by tears he hadn’t noticed falling. His thoughts stopped forming properly, words dissolving into pressure and noise and the sharp ache in his lungs.
By the time Welton’s gates came into view, his legs were trembling. He slowed to a stumble, then another, until he was barely moving at all. He was exhausted, the aftermath of the panic leaving him drained.
Cold. So cold.
He fumbled with the door, hands clumsy and useless, until it finally opened. Warm air rushed over him all at once, too sudden, almost painful. He dragged himself to his dorm. Luckily, no one was around. Shivering, he entered the dorm.
“How was dinner?” Neil asked.
Todd tried to answer, but nothing came out. His vocal cords remained still, his throat locked. Why couldn’t he speak? He swallowed. Tried again. Nothing.
Panic flickered, brief but sharp. His heart picked up, his hands curling into the sleeves of his sweater. He wasn’t choosing this. He wasn’t refusing. The words were there, somewhere, but they wouldn’t cross whatever invisible barrier had dropped inside him.
Neil didn’t wait long.
“Oh,” he said softly, understanding settling in. “Okay.”
Todd’s shoulders sagged, just a little.
“You don’t have to talk,” Neil added. “You’re safe. C’mon.”
He gently took Todd’s wrist — light, careful — and guided him further into the room. Todd followed, movements slow and uncoordinated, like his body was lagging a second behind his thoughts.
“You’re freezing,” Neil murmured. “I’ll run you a bath, I allow you to steal one of my hoodies in the meantime. ”
Todd smiled at the permission. He loved wearing Neil’s hoodies because it felt like he was constantly being hugged by him. He slipped it on slowly. The smell of laundry soap and something faintly familiar settled around him. His shoulders loosened a fraction.
Neil disappeared into the bathroom with a set of comfortable clothes for the shivering boy. Todd stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with himself, then sat on the edge of the bed, feet barely touching the floor. The hoodie’s cuffs were warm against his fingers. He pressed them together, grounding himself in the feeling.
Water began to run in the bathroom. Steam crept out under the door.
Todd breathed in. Then out.
“Bath’s ready.” Neil said, coming out of the bathroom.
Todd looked up at him, a little delayed. He nodded once and slid off the bed, movements careful and stiff. His feet were still cold against the floor.
“C’mon,” Neil said softly. He didn’t rush him. “I’ve got it set just right.”
The bathroom was warm and dim, the mirror fogged over. The tub was filled high, lavender scented white foam piled along the edges — clearly more than the school rules would allow. Todd noticed it and huffed out a small, breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh.
“Don’t tell,” Neil whispered, conspiratorial.
Todd peeled off the damp sweater and then the hoodie, reluctantly, folding it the wrong way but keeping it close. Neil turned away without being asked, busying himself with adjusting the tap.
When Todd finally sank into the water, the reaction was immediate. His shoulders dropped. A shaky breath left him as the heat wrapped around him, seeping into his skin, into his hands, his feet.
There it is.
Neil crouched beside the tub. “I’ll be right outside,” he said. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Todd nodded again, eyes already heavy, foam drifting lazily around him.
For the first time all evening, the noise in his head softened.
The heat drained the cold out of his bones faster than he expected. When he finally stepped out, he felt lighter—emptier, in a good way. He dried himself, drained the water put on the set of clothes Neil left him and emerged out of the warm bathroom. He smelled the aroma of cocoa wafting around.
Smells good, Todd wanted to say. A soft pleasant hum came out instead.
Neil glanced over from the desk. His face softened.
“I finally found where I kept my secret stash of hot cocoa. I knew I had it somewhere, but didn’t remember.”
Todd chuckled softly.
Neil handed Todd a mug, both hands wrapped around it first to warm the ceramic. Todd accepted it carefully, fingers curling around the heat. The cocoa smelled rich and sweet, grounding in a way words weren’t.
“Careful,” Neil added. “It’s hot.”
Todd nodded and took a small sip. Warmth spread through his chest almost immediately. His shoulders slumped, tension finally giving way.
Neil pulled a blanket from the end of the bed and draped it around Todd from a fatherly care he never had, tucking it in around his sides until he was wrapped snugly, contained.
“There,” Neil murmured. “Perfect.”
Todd let himself sink back against the pillows, mug balanced between his hands. His eyelids felt heavy. The room was quiet, dim, safe.
For the first time since dinner, his body stopped bracing for the next thing. He pointed to the drawer near his bed.
“You want something in that drawer?”
Todd answered with a nod.
Neil got up and opened the drawer. It was filled with miscellaneous items, including a blacktip shark plush. He knew Todd has a small spot for marine life, always hanging out at the aquarium when he could, doodle sharks in his books, but he didn’t knew he owned a shark plush. Neil didn’t mind, in fact, he found it cute.
He held it so Todd could see it and he hummed happily again. Neil sat back down on the bed and gave the shark to him. Todd snuggled up with it, both of their heads peeking out the blanket.
“Does he have a name?” Neil asked, interested. Todd pointed his set of gloves hanging on the coat rack.
“Gloves?” Todd shook his head. Neil tried again.
“Mittens?” Todd nodded.
“Fits him well. He does look like he’s wearing little mittens.” Neil smiled and booped the shark’s snout, making Todd smile.
“Speaking of sharks, I found this book about deep sea creatures the other day. I wanted to give it to you, but I forgot where I put it.” It made Todd happily squeal softly, which made Neil feel glad he liked the gift.
Neil turned the page, and Todd’s eyes widened. “Tripod fish,” Neil read aloud. “They use their long fins to stand on the ocean floor like stilts. They wait… and wait… for food to come by.”
Todd traced the fins with his finger, imagining them tapping on the dark seabed. He hummed softly, barely noticing the sound, absorbed in the strange elegance of the fish.
Next came a vampire squid, its cloak-like webbing spread wide, glowing faintly. Todd’s eyebrows furrowed in fascination. “It’s… so… weird,” he murmured.
“Aren’t they all?” Neil smiled. “Look at this one.” He flipped to a page with an anglerfish, its tiny glowing lure dangling. “It uses this light to trick prey into coming closer.”
Todd’s fingers tightened around Mittens. The warmth of the blanket, the soft hum of Neil’s voice, the soothing effects of the hot cocoa, the gentle turn of the pages—it all wrapped around him like a shield.
Another page showed a spiny deep-sea crab, its claws reaching out like tiny armored sentinels. Todd’s eyes started to droop. He yawned softly, barely noticing, still tracing the jagged outline of the crab.
By the time Neil read about the gulper eel again, Todd’s eyelids had grown heavy. The book slipped slightly in his lap as he sank further into the pillows, a soft, content sigh escaping him. Mittens was clutched to his chest, his breath steady now, finally at peace.
Neil glanced down at him, smiling gently. “Sleep well, little shark,” he whispered, closing the book softly so it wouldn’t fall.
He tucked a loose strand of Todd’s hair behind his ear, then someone knocked at the door. He opened it, revealing Keating.
“Good evening, Neil. Is Todd here? I wanted to check on him, he seemed overwhelmed after my class.”
“He’s sleeping now, but I think he just had a bad day.
Keating stepped inside quietly, careful not to disturb the boy. He looked down at Todd and smiled softly. “I see. You’ve got good taste in company, Neil.”
Neil hummed in acknowledgment. Keating nodded once, as if satisfied, then whispered, “Rest well, Todd. Tomorrow is another day,” before quietly closing the door behind him.