Work Text:
The morning sun streams through his tiny apartment window, giving Todd a rude awakening as the light permeates, uncomfortably bright, through his eyelids. His brain is fuzzy, his back protesting from where he sits, sprawled forward in his chair. He fell asleep at his desk again.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, immediately darting them to the clock on his bedside table. Barely 7 in the morning. A full hour before he needs to be up.
He’s really regretting agreeing to the room on the east side of the building, and further regretting not having curtains to block out the dawn. He will do nothing about either of these things; the griping is mostly a routine at this point.
As he pushes himself up from his desk — already mourning the crinkled and drool-dotted page that was acting as a draft for his newest short story before it became his impromptu pillow — he realizes there’s a phantom ache, stinging through his left arm.
He doesn’t bother looking down, for Todd knows exactly what he’ll see. Despite the years, the letters have never gone away completely, only faded, and Todd prefers not to see them if he doesn’t have to. He’s taken to wrapping his arm in bandages, in fact, because it’s easier explaining away an injury than going through the process of skirting around history he doesn’t want to get into.
So, he ignores the twinge of his arm, and instead directs his bleary eyes to the calendar on the corner of his desk.
December 15th, 1969.
Oh. That must be why his arm hurts. It’s certainly why he was up late working.
It’s bad every year; even as he gets further and further away from the event itself, the memory of that morning never fades. It never quite loses the sharp edges that make it so painful to swallow, and the anniversary is the perfect time for all of it to rear its ugly head.
Still. To think it’s already been ten years. Todd remembers it like it was yesterday.
Frantic hands shaking him awake. Charlie, with silent tears streaming down his face, standing before his bedside, choking out the words as if they hurt him. Todd looking around at the other dead poets in the room, trying to make sense of it, to find the joke in it, before casting his eyes to the empty bed across from him—
He shakes his head back and forth, trying to dispel the thought. He can’t do this today. It’s too much to handle. Maybe tonight, when he’s tossing and turning in his bed, unable to fall asleep, he can let himself think about it. For now, there’s simply no point.
So he stands, trying to stretch the pain out of his back, and begins rummaging through his closet for something decent he can wear to work even though he doesn’t technically need to get ready yet. The world won’t stop because of one bad day, and neither can he. As much as he hates his job. As much as facing his roommates and trying to force a smile onto his face makes his stomach curl. As much as he wants to crawl under the covers of his bed and pretend none of this is happening.
He does it anyway. He’ll be brave, at least for today, because he’s failing more than himself if he doesn’t.
As he changes, he allows himself one glance in the mirror — just to look, for a moment, at the single word etched stubbornly onto his arm, even after all these years. It’s faded now, but it will probably never go away completely.
Two letters that changed his entire life. He’ll never forget the sweet, honeyed tone they were wrapped in when he fell, harder and faster than he ever will again. Such a simple thing, and yet he can barely stand to look at it most days.
But it’s there, always in the corner of his mind.
Written in a crisp, neat print across his forearm: No.
***
The word first appeared when he was six years old.
Even as a child, Todd was always nervous. Adults, trying to be nice, called him "conscientious", maybe even “shy”, if they were feeling particularly ungenerous. Really, he was just anxious.
And it was this anxiety that convinced him, stubbornly, that this was not something he could go to his parents with. They always found ways to scrutinize him, and he was certain, with crystal clarity, that the simplicity of the message on his arm would be cause for disappointment somehow.
He had already known about soulmates; of course he had. At that age, it was all anyone seemed to want to talk to him about. Have you gotten your soulmark yet, sweetie? Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure it’s on its way. A set of phrases that haunted his every thought.
At least, he thought as he rushed to Jeffrey’s room, he wasn’t a “late bloomer”. He had been afraid of that, because he seemed to be a late bloomer on everything else, but six was a perfectly natural time to get a soulmark.
Still. The word he was going to fall in love to was “no”? To Todd, that felt like a failure all on its own.
Jeffrey helped assuage some of his worries, at least enough to convince Todd to tell their parents. “It’s not about what it says,” Jeffrey had told him. “The context is what matters. You’ll know when it happens.”
Todd sniffed, wiping the almost-shed tears from his eyes. “Is that what happened when you fell in love with your soulmate?”
Jeffrey laughed then. “No, I haven’t met her yet. But I will someday, and that’ll be what happens. Then, I’ll marry her.” He grinned at Todd. “And when you meet your soulmate, she’ll probably be super pretty, and you’ll get married too.”
Jeffrey did end up getting married to his soulmate. A gentle girl named Sarah who he met in college. Todd doesn’t see them much anymore, but they have kids. Yet another way his brother always managed to succeed where Todd failed.
His parents were excited when they found out Todd had gotten his mark. Baffled, maybe, about the nature of the word, but they told him the same thing Jeffrey did. It wasn’t what it said, but the context in which it would be said that mattered. And Todd found it in himself to stop being anxious about it. To even, perhaps, look forward to the day when he would meet the pretty girl who he was destined to love for the rest of his life.
She would fix him. She would make him feel safe, in a way he never had. And maybe, just maybe, she would make him feel wanted.
Little did he know, his soulmate would be so much more than that — someone who could light Todd up from the inside and make him feel like he was invincible.
And little did he know, that bliss was so much more fleeting than he could ever bear to imagine.
***
Work is mundane, to the point of being grating. Todd had never wanted to work in an office, and he is continually proven right in this conviction with every day he does it.
He supposes he’s lucky he even got the job in the first place. His English degree doesn’t exactly align with the work, and the expulsion from Welton certainly doesn’t help. And a job is a good thing to have — it gives him something to do. It allows him to help make sure rent is paid in an apartment that is already overcrowded with twenty-somethings who haven’t found any sort of direction in life. It’s important that he keeps it.
Even still, if Todd had the option, he would quit on the spot.
His boss is just as much of an asshole as he ever is, his co-workers just as cold. Todd can’t blame them for it. They don’t know what this day means to him. To them, it’s just any other Monday.
He slips up a few times: gets lost in his own thoughts, or answers a little more sharply than strictly necessary when asked a question. Most people don’t bother trying to figure out what’s wrong, but there are a few.
“Are you alright, Mr. Anderson?” Jenna, one of the receptionists, asks him in the break room when he’s grabbing a coffee. “You seem tense.”
Todd considers spilling it to her. Maybe it would feel good to get it off his chest; it’s been years and years since he’s talked about any of it out loud. He doesn’t even have to tell her it was his soulmate. Or, he doesn’t have to tell her it was a man. He could just let her in on a few of the details, and bask in the brief but poignant pity she will offer in return. For just a moment, he could allow himself to not be okay.
But he doesn’t do that. He just forces a smile, and tells her that everything is fine. Because it is. Or at least, it should be. It’s no one’s fault but his own that he hasn’t gotten over this by now. He figures he probably never will.
It’s easy enough to pretend to be okay. Todd learned how to do that from a very young age. Even still, when he gets back to his desk, the coffee is flavorless on his tongue. All he can taste is bile and freshly fallen snow.
***
It’s not that it was love at first sight. Todd didn’t realize it was anything more than infatuation until later.
Even still, meeting Neil was like being struck by lightning. By that point, Todd had already figured out his…deficiency. Somewhere along the way, he realized that, if he was really being honest with himself, his eyes always caught on guys in his school, not girls, and the way his stomach twisted when that happened was exactly how Jeffrey described what a crush felt like.
He kept it to himself. It was already obvious that his parents were disappointed in him, and he was certain that if they ever found out, he would no longer have parents. And he couldn’t tell Jeffrey, or any of his friends, because even if they were accepting, they would never truly understand, not really.
So, Todd kept it tucked away, a shameful secret that was to follow him to the grave. He was determined that he would marry a nice woman and have kids with her, and he would be fine. Some nights, he even prayed to a god he didn’t know if he truly believed in that his soulmate would be a girl. Deep down, he knew it was too much to hope for.
But laying eyes on Neil for the first time was enough to make him question his resolve.
Neil was graceful and charming in a way Todd could never hope to be. He told himself, that first day, that the flash of heat in his cheeks when Neil gave him one of those perfect smiles was from envy. No one should be allowed to be that comfortable in their own skin, especially not at the age of seventeen.
He knew he was lying from the beginning. But it was easier than admitting to wanting something that could make him lose everything.
And then Neil made it worse, because he always managed to. He was more than just charismatic, or well-mannered — he was genuinely kind. Todd assumed, for a while, that when Neil asked him along to study groups or lunch, it was out of pity, or a misplaced sense of duty. How could he have known it was because Neil wanted him there?
He felt guilty about it. There were more than a few sleepless nights of Todd trying to force himself to stop feeling that way. Neil was so wonderful to him, and he didn’t deserve to have Todd’s desires pushed onto him, whether he was aware of it or not.
Plus, Todd was used to the kinds of crushes that went away quickly; brief moments of interest, maybe a week at most, before he was brought back down to earth with the reminder that it could never happen. People like Todd didn’t get those kinds of things.
But it was so much harder with Neil. Maybe it was the forced proximity, or maybe it was just the fact that it was Neil. Todd could never get over it, no matter how hard he tried. And worst of all, sometimes, in flashes of foolishness, he allowed himself to hope.
However, things were alright, at least for a little while. They were manageable. His feelings weren’t going away any time soon, but it wasn’t like they stopped him from acting normal around Neil. And one day, Neil would fall in love with someone, probably his soulmate, and Todd would be fine with that. It wasn’t a big deal.
That’s what he told himself, at least. But that was a lie too.
***
After he gets home from work, he allows one of his roommates to talk him into going to a bar.
Christian leans over his shoulder, watching him pick away at his hastily thrown together pasta. “You look like a corpse, Todd.”
He grunts in response.
“Was work really that bad?”
He begins shaking his head, then stops and shrugs. Work wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t good either, and it certainly didn’t help improve his mood.
Plus, if he lets on that his day was like any other day, he’ll have to come up with other reasons why he’s feeling shitty, and Todd simply doesn’t have it in him at the moment.
Christian sighs at his lack of response, but doesn’t try to push it further. Clearly, he knows how to choose his battles. “Alright, well, I know it’s a Monday, but me and the others were planning on going out. You want to come? It’ll probably do you some good.”
“Going out” of course means going to one of the many illicit bars Todd’s roommates like to hang around. Usually, these types of establishments make Todd incredibly worrisome — there are so many things that could go wrong in a place like that, when everyone has something to hide — and he’s not one for drinking in the middle of the week, let alone the beginning.
But sometimes it’s nice to be around a group of people who are all like him, and Todd really does need a distraction. So, to Christian’s surprise, he agrees on the spot, and they’re at the bar within the hour.
It’s less crowded than Todd is used to, considering he normally only comes on weekends and it’s only 7:30. This puts him somewhat at ease, and he allows himself to roll back his shoulders while he orders a drink, actually managing to find an empty table for once.
He’s gotten better with people over the years; it’s a necessary part of growing up. That doesn’t mean he has to like being in crowded spaces.
His roommates have all flitted over to their own separate corners of the bar, presumably to flirt with whatever cute guys are around. Todd keeps half an eye on them, just in case, but otherwise lets them do their thing. He’s not in the mood for conversation anyway.
Todd takes a sip of his beer, and it doesn’t taste good, but at least he can taste it at all, unlike the coffee from earlier. He wonders, briefly, if Neil would’ve come to a place like this. If he would’ve been the center of attention, lighting up the entire room like he always did, had things been different.
And then he forces his mind away from the thought. What if’s do him no good. He’s learned this lesson by now.
Instead, he looks around the bar again, taking in the faces of all the people he doesn’t know. There are two girls shoved into one of the booths across the room from him, pressed together from shoulder to thigh. A group of people, all done up in makeup and frills that make Todd assume they’re a troupe of actors, share a toast at one of the larger tables. A man sitting at the bar on his lonesome.
Wait.
Is that—?
Todd’s across the room before he can even think about it, a hand placed on the man’s shoulder. He looks up, and sure enough, there he is. A face Todd hasn’t seen in so many years, but has still managed to maintain its edge of boyish mischief.
“Charlie?”
His old friend stares up at him, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Todd!”
And then Charlie’s on his feet, pulling Todd into a tight hug, and for just a moment, all of his worries fall away in the face of pure joy.
***
Every day spent with the dead poets and Keating increased Todd’s confidence in himself, but that didn’t mean he was unafraid. He was still plenty anxious, and he certainly didn’t want to be the center of attention. So the idea of opening up his soul and presenting a poem in front of the entire class, in front of Neil — Keating hit the nail on the head when he said it scared the hell out of him.
He tried, he really did try, to make something he was proud of. Todd knew he was a decent writer; English had always been his best subject. But objectively knowing that and feeling it were two entirely different things.
Neil offered him encouragement to the point of excess. He asked to proofread Todd’s work, and chastised him gently whenever Todd threw away a draft. It made Todd feel special, even if it also made his skin crawl.
He thought about it, once or twice, if he could get away with writing something about Neil. It didn’t have to be specific. As long as Todd was careful, no one would ever have to know who the subject was, and he could finally have some sort of outlet for those awful feelings.
But he didn’t go through with the idea. It was obvious to anyone that it was a terrible plan, and the odds of Neil recognizing himself in the words were too strong.
He still tried to write something meaningful. There were so many topics that resonated with him, so many things inside him he could spew onto a page, if only he could find the words.
The truth was, though, that he really did think everything inside him was worthless. Keating was right about that too.
Even still, he probably would’ve been able to pull together a draft he was somewhat unashamed of, at least enough to read it in front of the class. But things had a tendency to get in his way, and in this case…
Well. Neil happened.
When Neil came back that afternoon, ranting about the play he was going to try out for, Todd was still slogging his way through a draft that was starting to shape into something he thought he might be able to use. The subject of religion was touchy at Welton, but he figured if he could share his thoughts anywhere, it would be in Keating’s class.
But then Neil was there, bouncing around the room and raving about becoming an actor. Todd couldn’t help smiling — Neil’s joy was always infectious — but the logical part of him got in the way, as usual, and he couldn’t help but ruin it.
“Jesus, Todd, who’s side are you on?”
Todd felt bad. Of course he did. This was Neil, the boy who made every effort to make Todd and everyone else feel welcome. Of course he deserved to be happy, to do what he wanted.
That wasn’t how the world worked though, and Todd didn’t want Neil laboring under a delusion that could hurt him. All he ever wanted was to keep Neil safe. But sometimes that meant protecting him from himself.
So he didn’t say anything, unable to find the words, and for a few heartwrenching moments, Todd worried he’d gone too far this time. This time would be the one where Neil would finally realize he wasn’t worth the effort.
They fell into silence, Todd trying, in vain, to keep working on his poem while Neil lounged against the radiator.
“You’re coming to the meeting this afternoon.”
Neil’s question — more of a statement, really, as if he could just will it into reality by saying it — was a blessing and a curse. Todd was embarrassingly relieved that Neil wasn’t so upset with him that he didn’t want him at the meeting, but Todd already knew he wouldn’t like the answer.
The truth was, the meetings were freeing to him. But he worried that if he gave himself too much of that freedom, he would forget where his place was.
So he did what he always did best. He disappointed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He expected Neil to try to argue him into it; maybe, if Todd was lucky, Neil would be put-out enough that he wouldn’t even try to push his response.
He did neither. “Nothing Mr. Keating has to say means shit to you, does it, Todd?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re in the club! Being in the club means being stirred up by things! You look about as stirred up as a cesspool.”
Todd tried to hide that he was hurt by the words, even as his stomach sank further and further. “So, you want me out?” He was proud of how even his voice sounded. He didn’t want to be pushing Neil away like this, but it was easier if Neil didn’t know how much being around him mattered to Todd.
But Neil hated it when Todd hid how he really felt, he always did. So he kept pushing. He would never just leave it at that. “No, I want you in! But being in means you’ve gotta do something, not just say you’re in.”
And finally, it all spilled out. The truth was that Todd and Neil were not the same type of person, never had been. Neil was the center of the universe, and Todd was on the outskirts. Even if Neil couldn’t see it, Todd had known it the whole time. Was it wrong of him that he didn’t want Neil to realize?
“I’m not like you, alright? You say things and people listen. I’m not like that.” Todd knew he was right about it. No one had ever listened to Todd in his entire life. Not his parents, not his peers or his teachers. Even his brother had a habit of hearing what he wanted to hear from Todd, not what he was actually saying. Todd didn’t know if he could be “in the club”, because when he felt stirred up by things, no one ever cared.
Or, almost no one, anyway. “Don’t you think you could be?”
“No!” The word was out before he could help it, and he quickly amended, embarrassed by his outburst. “I don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is, there’s nothing you can do about it. So you can just butt out.” And then, because Todd could never allow himself to have nice things, he added, “I can take care of myself just fine.”
He expected that to be the end of it. He didn’t want to push him away, but it was important that Neil got what he was trying to say. He didn’t need pity, or sympathy, or any attention coming from a place of trying to “fix him”. Todd had enough of that in his life already, and if that was all Neil wanted, then he could just leave him alone. Even if Todd wanted more than anything for him to stay.
Neil stared at him for a few moments, and Todd was certain he was going to turn around and leave with a huff, and that would be it between them. But instead—
“No.”
Something warm zipped through him. Todd looked up in shock.
“What do you mean, no?”
Then Neil was smiling, and Todd’s arm was on fire.
“No.” The word was dipped in honey and licked at Todd’s skin sweetly. He didn’t have to look down to know the word on his arm was turning dark.
Oh. Jeffrey was right all along.
Todd was sure of it. He was in love.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, elation, shock, and dread battling a fierce war in his chest. He let Neil drag him along to the meeting, but he could barely remember any of the details. All he could see was Neil, sitting next to him, Neil reading poetry, Neil, Neil, Neil.
Neil, who had turned his soulmark. Neil, who was his soulmate.
His mind was so clouded, he couldn’t find it in himself to try to keep working on his poem.
***
They end up sitting across from each other at Todd’s table, a drink in both of their hands. Charlie hasn’t stopped grinning since he sat down. This is the first time Todd’s genuinely smiled all day.
“I can’t believe you recognized me! I probably wouldn’t have noticed you if you didn’t.”
Todd shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “I guess I just had some sort of sixth sense about it.”
“Tell me about it!” Charlie reclines in his chair, his posture the very picture of relaxed. Todd wonders if Charlie ever seemed this at ease during their time together at Welton. The years have been kind to him. “I mean, if you had told me that I would be seeing Todd Anderson of all people today, I would’ve laughed in your face. At a gay bar, no less!”
There’s an implication there, about Charlie. But Todd had already, deep down, suspected such a thing, so it isn’t all that shocking. Maybe it would’ve been nice to know for sure during his school days. But that doesn’t matter now.
They bounce around from topic to topic for an hour or so; where do you work, what part of town are you living in, favorite books, favorite music, the usual. They talk themselves backwards through time, exploring all of the things they’ve forgotten about each other, and discovering the things they never got to learn.
When Todd glances over, Christian is smirking at him, an eyebrow raised. Todd ignores him. He isn’t entitled to know anything.
The topic of Welton sits heavy between them throughout the whole conversation. Todd doesn’t think Charlie is going to bring it up, even though they surely both know what day it is, but Charlie surprises him. “So. How was that last year and a half at Hellton? I’m assuming I didn’t miss much, but I never found out.”
Todd’s smile turns wry. “Um. Actually, I got kicked out.”
Charlie barks a laugh, and then realizes that Todd isn’t joking. He becomes incredulous. “You? Seriously?”
He nods, and the impressed whistle Charlie gives in response makes him feel almost proud.
“When?”
“Like, a week after you. It was sort of a whole thing, and my parents were really mad about it. But I couldn’t…” He swallows. “I couldn’t stand to stay there like that, so I got pretty reckless. And it worked.”
“What, did you also punch Cameron in the nose?” Charlie is still smiling, but his eyes have turned somber, so the joke falls flat.
“Kind of wish I had.”
Charlie huffs an amused breath, but looks down into his drink, tipping the liquid back and forth without taking a sip. Todd waits for him to collect whatever he has to say.
“You know what day it is, don’t you?”
Todd swallows, casting his eyes to the woodgrain of the table. “Yeah.”
“Guess it makes sense you’re here. Never pegged you for the type to go drinking on a Monday.”
“Needed a distraction, I guess.”
Charlie looks back at him, his expression assessing, before he nods. “Yeah, me too.” There’s silence for a few moments longer before: “Hey, you wanna get out of here? I think there might be a theatre around here that’s doing a late night show for real cheap.”
Todd feels his lips pull into a smile and reaches for his coat.
***
It was an agonizing week between his realization and the Monday of the poetry reading. If he was having trouble with coming up with something before, it was now impossible. All he could think about was Neil.
Neil was his soulmate. Not just some misguided infatuation or passing fancy, but the real deal. After years of trying to suppress the parts of himself that Todd thought were wrong, having that kind of cosmic validation felt gratifying and terrifying in equal measure.
Of course, he still couldn’t tell anyone, not even Neil himself. Todd knew, objectively, that he had about as good of a chance with Neil as he was going to get in this case. However, he couldn’t stop worrying about it. He had heard the same horror stories as everyone, about people whose soulmates have words for someone else. Todd couldn’t help feeling like if anyone was going to get the short end of the stick in that way, it was him.
Plus, even if Todd was Neil’s soulmate, that didn’t mean he could hope for anything to happen. Welton was a prison, and they would both suffer if anything were to slip through. Neil could be impulsive and rebellious, but his risks were always calculated. And, well, it wasn’t like Todd was very good at throwing caution to the wind either.
With all of this on his mind, he couldn’t possibly manage to make a poem that felt right. He still tried, but the words rang hollow, and in the end he resigned himself to not completing the assignment. It was either that or trying to use his feelings for Neil, which was an even worse idea than before.
Todd was hoping Keating would just fail him on the assignment, maybe even knock a point off of his final grade like Hager. But, it was Keating. And nothing was ever that easy with him, especially not for Todd.
He tried to be nonchalant when Keating asked him for his work. It was a defense mechanism he employed often, in those days; it was easier for people to be disappointed in him if they thought he didn’t care.
So, Todd huffed and rolled his eyes as he watched Keating scratch out the words of yet another Walt Whitman poem on the board, pointedly not looking at Neil. He didn’t need to, to know that Neil was frowning at him.
Being dragged up on stage in front of his class of giggling peers and being asked to yell was not the worst thing Todd could imagine happening to him, but he still felt the tight coil of dread curling in his stomach as it happened.
And, of course, because it was Keating, his “yawp” wasn’t enough. Pretty soon, Todd felt like a subject sitting under the microscope of his class, having poetry extracted from his lips without any input on his part.
He really wasn’t trying to make something meaningful or impressive. The goal was really just to say something, anything to get Keating off his back.
But, as soon as he finished, as soon as he opened his eyes to the rest of the classroom, he could already tell. There was a pulse in the room — a heavy feeling as if they were all waiting for something to happen. There was something thrumming through Todd’s veins. He was lightheaded and high on endorphins. It was the first time he had ever really, truly gone beyond being passable at something and actually excelled.
He chanced a glance at his classmates, taking in the different expressions each of them were wearing. They didn’t all look impressed, but none of them were snickering, which Todd couldn’t help but be amazed by. Meeks was smiling. Charlie’s eye had an appraising glint in it. He looked at Neil.
Neil was staring at Todd like he had never even seen him before. His thumb was brushing back and forth against his forearm.
Todd felt his pulse speed up at that, at that tiny little gesture, and he couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread across his face as the classroom erupted into cheers. He was practically vibrating out of his skin for the rest of the period, barely able to hear the rest of the poems, with his thoughts caught on Neil’s eyes resting solely on him.
He couldn’t tell you anything that happened for the rest of the school day. Todd floated from class to class, with no recollection of ever walking there at all. Normally, this would be cause for Neil to ask after him, but he was just as distracted as Todd was.
Before dinner, Todd was sat on his bed, a notebook open but blank in his lap, when Neil returned from rehearsal.
There was a moment where Neil flinched, and then stared at Todd like he wasn’t expecting him to be there. Todd could feel himself smiling, the letters on his arm pulsing warmly underneath his sweater. Shockingly, he didn’t feel nervous at all.
“...Hey.”
“Hey.” Todd set his notebook aside. “How was rehearsal?”
“It was fine.” Neil began shuffling around the room, putting his bag on his desk and rifling through the closet for something. “We’re supposed to be off-book for act one by next week.”
“I can help you run lines, if you want.”
Neil looked back at him, his expression open and soft, and Todd felt his heart jump again. “Yeah. That would be nice.” He was still digging through his clothes, although Todd thought he might have been stalling. Maybe he was nervous. Todd certainly couldn’t blame him. “You didn’t tell us you were such a poet.”
Todd rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, even though Neil wasn’t looking at him. “I guess I didn’t really know either.”
“Well, I mean,” Neil finally turned back around, moving across the room to sit next to him on his bed. Their shoulders brushed together, sending sparks up Todd’s arm. “It was just…it was amazing, Todd. I can’t imagine how good your other stuff is.”
Todd swallowed, taking the plunge. “What about it was so amazing, exactly?”
“Oh, it—” Neil shook his head. “I can’t really put it into words, Todd. There was just something about it, I really can’t explain. You’re just so…” Neil’s eyes were full of wonder, roses blooming in his cheeks. “You’re incredible.”
Todd couldn’t help but stare at him, his heart ballooning in his chest. Neil looked so beautiful, and they really should’ve been going down to dinner, they would get in trouble if they didn’t show up, but Todd couldn’t bring himself to move from that spot.
Neil ended up being the one to break the silence first, as if he realized the moment of quiet intimacy had gone on for too long. “How ‘bout we head down for dinner now, yeah?” He turned away from Todd, and made to stand.
Todd, without really thinking about it, grabbed his arm before he could get too far. There was a moment of stillness.
“Um. Todd?”
Todd stood and turned Neil to face him. Neil’s brow was pinched; he looked almost…scared?
When he fit a finger under Neil’s left sleeve, there was a sharp inhale of breath, all the confirmation Todd needed that he was right. He slowly rolled it up, revealing the words scrawled there, dark and damning.
From the moment we enter crying, to the moment we leave dying, it’ll just cover your face, as you wail and cry and scream.
Neil had gone completely rigid, not even breathing. Todd just stared at the words, tracing the letters with his eyes, remembering how they had been ripped out of him earlier in the day.
He smiled a little. “Not the most romantic, is it?”
Neil shook in his grip, and Todd met his eye again. He was staring at him imploringly. “Todd, I—”
And, in one of the bravest acts Todd had ever taken, he leaned forward and caught the words between their lips.
He still remembers the way Neil had sagged into him, turning from hesitant to insistent within seconds. That night, for the first time in his life, Todd had felt truly at peace.
***
It’s just past midnight when they stumble out of the theatre, the cold streets of New York greeting them like an old friend.
The production of Romeo and Juliet they had seen was pedestrian at best — poor acting and even worse direction — but Todd had still found himself tearing up at the end when Romeo took the poison. He’s certain Charlie was doing the same.
It’s late enough that it’s mostly empty outside, so the two of them are undisturbed as they walk aimlessly, chatting about the costume design and the weak line delivery and then nothing at all. Todd still has work in the morning, but he doesn’t get good sleep most of the time anyway, so he figures it’s a fair enough way to spend the night.
They come across a dingy little park — barely ten acres, Todd guesses — with a gate that has already been locked up for the night. Charlie smirks at Todd when he sees it, and Todd can’t bring himself to try to deter him when he hops it with ease.
Once they find a bench to sit at, right by the edge of a small pond that’s probably intended for ducks to swim in, Todd can’t help but wish they had some alcohol to share. He was only a little buzzed when they left the bar, and now he’s almost completely sober again. It would be nice to have something to soften his thoughts.
As if he already knows what Todd is thinking, Charlie says, “If only we had some beer or something. We could toast to Neil’s memory.”
Todd nods, not bothering to respond with words. He can tell Charlie is looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I bet he would’ve liked that show. Would’ve gotten mad at us for being so critical of it.”
Todd huffs a laugh, because Charlie is probably right. If they had gone to see it with Neil, he would find all the things to like about it, being unnecessarily kind to performances that they all knew were entirely lackluster.
Or maybe, with age and more shows under his belt, Neil would become more critical. He would be an actor, with an eye for talent and hard work, and a callous disposition towards those productions that tarnished the show they were performing with the poor choices they made.
Todd can see it so clearly, that world where Neil is still here. Maybe he and Todd would have an apartment together, and Todd would see Charlie every weekend, rather than randomly reconnecting with him ten years too late. Neil would proofread his drafts, and they would go to poetry nights together, and Todd would see every single one of his shows. He wouldn’t have to work somewhere he hates, because Neil wouldn’t let him, and he would be loved every single day of his life.
It’s a nice thought, but ultimately nothing more than the fantasy of a lovestruck teenager.
He realizes that he let the silence drag on as he was lost in his thoughts, and glances back at Charlie to find him still staring at Todd, that same appraising look from earlier in his eye.
“Todd. Can I ask you something?”
Todd swallows thickly. “Yeah?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.
“Were you and Neil…y’know, together?”
He looks back down at his feet, taking in the tracks they’ve made through the snow. “Yeah.”
Charlie hums. “Soulmates?” he guesses.
Todd doesn’t bother responding this time. Charlie already knows what the answer is going to be.
“I always suspected, I guess. Neil was pretty cagey about it, though. But…” He puts a gentle hand on Todd’s shoulder. “God. I’m so sorry.”
Todd doesn’t say it’s fine, because it’s not. Even if it should be by now. His eyes are wet, but he doesn’t feel like he needs to cry. He’s shed enough tears about it for a lifetime.
He changes the topic, because there’s nothing more to say about it. “What about your soulmate?”
Charlie’s smile at that is almost cynical. “I found him. Wasn’t worth pursuing, though.”
“Oh.” Todd could ask about that, could ask if it was anyone from Welton. He’s curious about the story behind it, and whether Charlie thought his bond was one of those unlucky ones that wasn’t mutual. It had been so long since he had someone he could talk to so openly about these things.
But he feels drained for the evening, as if he has finally managed to get all of the feelings about Neil out of his system, and so he doesn’t ask even though Charlie would probably tell him.
There’s a squeeze to his shoulder, and then Charlie’s standing. “Here, let me walk you home. Don’t want those roommates of yours getting any ideas.”
Todd doesn’t protest, not with the sudden exhaustion that has overcome him. “Will you be alright getting home on your own?”
“Worried about me, Anderson?” Charlie grins at him, but it’s soft around the edges. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t have a shift tomorrow. You’ll have to point us in the direction of your apartment, though.”
Todd nods, and lets himself be dragged away. He’s still sad, but he thinks, for the first December 15th in ten years, he’ll sleep soundly tonight.
***
Those two months were the happiest of Todd’s entire life.
It wasn’t easy, hiding their relationship from the school, from their friends. But the other option was taking a risk so great, the consequences could be deadly. Or, worse, having to live together, see each other every day, without ever being together in the way they wanted to. Neither option was something they could do.
Neil kissed him as often as he could. When they were in their room, especially late at night, or even in secluded corners of the school when he was feeling brave. He would crowd close to him and press soft pecks all over Todd’s face, his cheeks and nose and eyelids, before finally connecting their lips together. And Todd would melt into it every time, because he had never felt so loved.
He also liked looking at the word on Todd’s arm, rolling up the sleeve and tracing the dark letters with a finger, asking Todd to tell him again how he fell in love with him. Todd told him over and over, just to see the way Neil’s smile turned wobbly at the edges.
And then, on nights when they had meetings with the dead poets, when Todd was feeling braver than he ever felt, he would find himself crawling into bed next to Neil, squished together because the bed wasn’t meant for two. He would run his hands under Neil’s shirt, kiss him until his mouth was sore, and marvel that it was something he got to have.
Then suddenly, it all disappeared in a gust of snow. And Todd was left desperately, achingly alone.
The months after that were hard, and then they got a little easier. But he never fully recovered, and there was no one in his life who could do anything to fix the damage. His family didn’t want anything to do with him, and he lost all of his friends from Welton after his expulsion. He had to find his own way to a life that he felt happy living.
And he did, at least somewhat. Nothing about his life turned out the way Todd expected, but he can say, some days, that he’s content.
The word on his arm never faded, even though it was supposed to. But it serves as a good reminder to him. About what he lost. About the fact that he was loved once, and could be loved again.
He lets Charlie walk him home, leaving him with an address and a promise to grab lunch sometime. He ignores Christian’s suggestive glance, and for once doesn’t bemoan the sight of his unfinished drafts scattered across his desk.
His arm doesn’t ache anymore. He rolls up his sleeve and stares at the letters in the mirror for a long time, and it still hurts to look at them. Maybe it always will. But maybe it will keep getting better. Maybe, in a few years, he’ll reach his dream, of being free, of being loved, of being someone who Neil would be proud of.
The thought makes him smile.