Chapter Text
No one saw or heard him leave.
There was no note, a hundred dollar bill was missing from his father's stash, as well as a can of tuna from the pantry, and his winter coat. His footprints were covered by the morning snow.
Neil Perry disappeared into the winter night.
***
The morning was beautiful, and it hurt. Todd kept running through the snow until his foot slipped on the ice and sent him stumbling down on the ground. His face was both hot and cold, his tears mixing with the melting snow that lay under him, softer than a feather bed. He couldn't have left them. Couldn't have left him. Todd struggled back to his feet and kept running down the frozen lake until he was out of breath, winter air foreign and unfamiliar in his lungs. The rest of the poets were left far away back uphill, black coats on white pajamas. He stood alone for a while, looking at the snow and ice sparkle in the sunlight.
They spent the rest of the day walking through the woods with torches and dogs, shouting out Neil’s name with hoarse trembling voices. Mr Perry was there as well. There was a bitter thought gnawing at the back of Todd's mind, telling him that Mr Perry was more worried about his missing money than his missing son. It wasn’t true, of course, and yet Todd couldn't help but think that he'd prefer it if this man never got to see Neil again. He guessed that's what Neil would have wanted.
He hoped that Neil would have wanted to see the poets again, though, so there was only one place where he could have been.
With everyone so preoccupied with Neil, Todd believed his own disappearance would go unnoticed. He waited for the search party to pass him by, looking at the trees around him as they sparkled in the sun. Keating threw him a glance over his shoulder, nodded and walked on. Only when the voices died down did Todd start running over the bracken and bramble to the cave.
Neil would be there, he had no doubt of that. He'd be sitting there, cuddled up in some blankets they'd forgotten on their last visit, a steaming cup of tea or broth in his hands; he'd freeze otherwise. Or maybe he'd be asleep, slumped down against the cavern wall, too tired of waiting for his silly Todd who'd come oh so late. He'd surely get a cold, the dramatic selfish fool that he is, making everyone worried sick about him. In any case, when he'd see Todd he would rub the sleep from his big brown eyes and then he would smile, this bright smile of his, and maybe laugh and chastise Todd for taking too long. Todd would have to retaliate: this whole affair was Neil's fault, after all. He doubted he would be able to bring himself to tell Neil off, though. No, he'd grab that silly boy and hold him as tight as he could, and Neil would laugh as hard as his squeezed ribs would allow, and Todd would swear to never let him go again, and press his nose into Neil's shoulder, and it would smell of frost, and moss, and Neil, and then…
The cave was empty. At least it seemed like it - was it just a pile of blankets on the floor or… no, there was nothing but a forgotten book in there. Could Neil have gone out for some fresh air? Or maybe he changed his mind and came back to the school? Why didn't he wait for him? Not even a goodbye…
The world got blurry. Todd didn't notice when he had fallen to the ground, clutching the blankets to his chest, shaking from heavy sobs. And to think that earlier that morning he was sure he'd have no more tears to cry.
It took him some time to look out of the cave and see the sun no longer shining. Whether it was already evening or whether it suddenly got cloudy he could not say. He'd have to go back soon, or there would be two boys missing from Welton.
He couldn't help but look around the cave once more before leaving. Only then did he realize that the book on the floor wasn't the one used in the poets’ meetings; it was instead a somewhat new dark green notebook with pages both glued in and handwritten. The glued in pages were all poems and quotes he knew: Frost, Auden, Whitman. The handwritten ones he didn't know, but he recognized the hand well enough. Neil.
He rustled through the pages - the book was roughly half full of Neil's originals, some lines and certain turns of phrases of which Todd even recalled being thrown around at their meetings. The last few pages were blank, while on the first there was only one word.
Todd.
Neil had been here after all and he had left a notebook for him to find. A notebook full of poetry he had written or gathered. For Todd.
Todd slipped the book under his coat, close to his chest, and stumbled out of the cave. The woods were now full of thick milky fog. The search would be futile at this point, and the ones looking for Neil should be careful to not get lost themselves. Todd was grateful he knew the road back to school by heart.
He almost sleepwalked to the dorms, his heart fluttering against Neil's book. The others had already come back, they greeted him one by one with grim faces - no Neil, then, and yes, they did start to worry that Todd had gone as well. Charlie gave Todd some dinner leftovers and looked at him in a way that made Todd get a distinct feeling that he knew where he'd spent the past few hours.
And so, a tray in his hands and the book in his front pocket, Todd slowly went up the stairs, delaying the opening of their door as much as he could. He knew, rationally, that he'd find their room empty; and yet, just like back in the woods, he imagined Neil there. He doubted he'd ever be able to imagine the world without Neil.
The room, of course, was empty. Todd put the tray on the desk, took off his boots, hung his dirty coat in the wardrobe and opened the window to let some fresh air in. It smelled just like the cave. One look at the cold bangers and mash told him he wouldn't be able to keep them down. He changed into his pajamas, too tired for a shower. His own bed seemed wrong somehow, so he lay down in Neil's.
In a way, it was a lot like standing on a desk; he'd never seen the room from this point of view. Strange and distorted it looked until he thought that Neil saw it like that every day. This was the angle from which Neil would look at Todd as they went to sleep, only, of course, there was no Todd in the opposite bed right now. He was looking at the world through Neil's eyes, breathing in Neil's scent left on the pillow, and the book in his hands was full of Neil's words and thoughts. In a way, in that moment he was closer to Neil than he ever was before.
Todd spent the night in Neil's bed, reading his poems over and over again until the first rays of sunlight found him in uneasy sleep, clutching the book close to his heart.