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1.
It is unsurprising to everyone but Todd that Neil ends up loving Todd's poetry. He seems to consider Todd a genius, even going as far as to call him the spiritual successor to Walt Whitman. Todd himself isn't quite so sure about his skills, but he certainly feels passionate about poetry. So, he keeps on writing, jotting down his thoughts on paper, incomplete and complete alike. There's hardly any piece of paper on his desk that doesn’t have at least half a poem written on the margins. He shares nearly all of his poems with Neil, who is neither shy nor sparing with his encouragement and adoration. It's a symbiosis of creativity and words of affirmation, and they're both better for it.
Neil, on the other hand, isn't quite as lucky with his own artistic pursuits. With the play done and no auditions on the horizon until the spring term, Neil finds himself in a dead end, stuck between the growing load of schoolwork and his father's unrealistic expectations. That, paired with a recent audition that didn't lead to a role, has made Neil understandably unsure. Acting truly is his passion; Todd knows that as well as Neil, but that does not mean he never has doubts.
One afternoon in their shared room, Neil sighs dramatically and flops down next to Todd on his bed. They have a free period and were planning on spending it with annoying homework assignments. But seeing as Todd feels no affection for chemistry homework, he sets down his textbook and instead talks to Neil.
“Is it Latin that's bothering you again?” Todd asks.
“No. Acting.”
“Acting? What do you mean?”
Neil scrunches up his nose. Todd can't help but think that it's cute, despite Neil's apparent frustration at something. “I mean… I don't know. Recently, I've just been wondering if that really is what I'm meant to do. Not that I don't love it, I do, I just—don't know for sure.”
Todd turns to look at his friend properly. Neil is sitting right by his side, their thighs just short of pressing together. His brown eyes are deep with uncharacteristic anxiety as he looks at his fidgeting hands.
“Is this about the audition?”
Neil bites his lip. “That too, I guess. But it's mostly schoolwork that's bothering me. I mean, I do all these extracurriculars, summer school, and additional chemistry assignments at my father's behest. But what is it all for anyway? Only for me to dedicate my life to acting and to leave all this behind.”
Todd looks on silently as Neil sighs deeply, his shoulders heaving under an invisible weight. Todd lets Neil finish speaking his piece, sensing that there's a lot he needs to say.
“It's not that I'm going to miss school. I just hate how it's all for nothing. I want to be an actor, Todd, but can I really live like that? Defying my father is… difficult. And he himself… Well, he's something, alright.”
That sentence could have ended in a number of ways, Todd knows. Neil evidently carries so many conflicting emotions regarding his father that it's nearly overwhelming. “How do you think he'd react if he knew you wanted to keep acting?” Todd asks.
“Badly. I don't exactly know how, but badly,” he says grimly. Neil doesn't look at him.
“I’m sorry,” Todd says quietly.
“You don’t need to be. I'm used to it by now. I just don't understand him,” Neil exclaims. “It's not like w— I mean, no one gets to choose where their passions lie. Shakespeare agrees with me on this. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,” he quotes. “This isn't quite what he was talking about, but I think he would understand my plight.”
He most likely would, Todd thinks but says nothing. Not for the first time, Todd curses his inability to verbally express himself and to comfort his friend. The written word simply comes more naturally to him, but flowery poems and complex metaphors are not what's needed here. Instead, Todd thinks another form of connection might be needed here. One that is most often initiated by Neil: physical contact.
Todd doesn't know exactly what it is that compels him to do so, but he takes hold of Neil's hand. His hands wrap around Neil's wrists, turning them so that his palms face upwards.
Neil looks surprised by the action but doesn't attempt to withdraw his hands from where they're held in Todd’s gentle grip.
Todd takes a deep breath and then presses his thumbs against Neil's palms, tracing each line on his skin with care and precision.
“Your parents are wrong,” he says quietly but bluntly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They want you to go to medical school, right?”
“It’s mostly my father that wants that, but yes,” Neil says, mouth twisting into a thin line.
“Well, evidently he doesn't know you all that well, then,” Todd says as he holds Neil's hands tighter. Sparks of warmth dance between their joined hands, prodding the hearth of Todd's heart and prompting him to be bolder with his words. “See? These are not the hands of a doctor. These are the hands of an actor. They're not meant to be dirtied with blood and guts and all that stuff. They’re meant to rise with soliloquy and fall with tragedy and to” —Todd thinks for a moment— “to hold skulls, or whatever it is that Hamlet does.”
Neil snorts, his lips forming a beautiful smile. “You really know your Shakespeare well,” he deadpans.
Todd feels his face getting warm. He's still holding Neil by his wrists, and the feeling of Neil's radiating warmth against his colder hands feels positively intoxicating.
“W-well, my point remains,” Todd says. ‘You've done so much to help me pursue my passion; now let me do the same for you' is what remains unsaid, but the sentiment is felt all the same.
Neil looks contemplative for a moment. He lets go of one of Todd's hands (Todd immediately misses its warmth) and looks at it. “I guess you're right,” Neil says. “I trust your judgment, Todd.”
Todd smiles at him shyly.
Neil continues, “Besides, if you'll be there to hold my hand and sweet talk me into compliance, I'm fairly certain you could get me to do anything.”
Now, that causes Todd to almost choke on his own spit as he sputters, face turning red. Neil says things like these far too often for Todd’s liking, seeing as they are exceedingly bad for his poor heart. Neil, however, always seems oblivious to the disastrous effects of his excessive praise and goodwill.
“What do you mean?” Todd manages to say.
Neil seems unfazed by all this and keeps on smiling that blinding smile of his. “I just mean that you're always there for me. Thanks for being such a good friend.” There's an almost imperceptible pause before he says the word friend.
Todd tips his head down at the praise but smiles nonetheless. “Thanks. You too.”
Neil gives his hand a light squeeze in response, then he sighs contentedly. “Isn’t this nice? The hands of a poet and an actor joined in companionship and creativity,” he says with a dramatic flair. “I, the not-so-doctorly holder of skulls, as you said, and you” —Neil looks at Todd with reverence— “the true Walt Whitman of our generation.”
“Well—” Todd begins self-consciously but is quickly cut off by Neil.
“Shush now, Todd. Learn to embrace your status as the greatest poet of our time.” Neil grins.
“Whatever you say, Neil,” Todd says noncommittally, though privately he cherishes the compliment.
He and Neil both lean their heads against the bedside wall, homework assignments long forgotten.
“You know, I've decided something just now,” Neil says. “If you ever try your hand at playwriting, I'll be the first in line to your play’s audition.”
“You would? I can't say I've ever considered it.”
“Maybe you should. Can you imagine what the poster would look like? A new, critically acclaimed play written by world-renowned poet Todd Anderson,” he proudly exclaims. “That's what it would say.”
“And starring the ever-so-brilliant Neil Perry,” Todd finishes, smiling.
Todd considers the matter for a moment and comes to the realization that if anyone were to ever bring life to his words via acting, who else should it be but Neil? He can't think of anyone more suited to give a voice to Todd’s innermost thoughts and feelings. That is, after all, what he has been doing through their entire friendship. Neil, with his captivating voice and his penchant for theater, would undoubtedly be Todd’s first choice of actor should he ever turn to playwriting.
Todd tells him as much. “You'd be my first choice of actor.”
“Oh yeah?” Neil smiles.
“Yeah,” Todd replies, hoping it sounds as sincere as he means. It really would be the greatest honor to have Neil act his writing out of everyone else’s, to be chosen by Neil even though the aspiring actor could capture just about any stage he wanted. The thought nestles in his chest, spreading warmth to the rest of his body.
“That would be really nice.”
“It would,” he agrees. “Maybe it will happen someday.”
“Someday,” Neil repeats, deep in thought.
They don't stop holding hands until the bell rings to signal them of the end of their free period.
2.
The snow crunches beneath Todd's shoes as he walks across the yard, towards the school.
The winter holidays have finally ended after a wait that was frankly too long. It isn't usual for students to actively miss school, but Todd is quite sure all of the Dead Poets share his sentiment. Not that it's the workload they miss; more so the friends gained through shared misery.
But there's one person in particular that Todd misses the most. Though he and Neil have been writing to each other almost daily throughout the holiday, he still misses him terribly. But Neil, who returned to the school at the first possibility, wrote to him the day before, saying he would be waiting for Todd's arrival outside. Todd smiles to himself a bit, comforted by their upcoming reunion today.
As if on cue, a yell from the other side of the schoolyard breaks his train of thought.
“Todd!” comes the enthusiastic yell, in a voice he would recognize anywhere.
Todd looks over to the source of the voice and sees none other than Neil sitting there, on the stairs of the school. He seems to be smiling one of those bright smiles of his. Then he stands up from the stairs and begins to head toward his friend, first by walking, then by running.
Todd, too, sets off running in hopes of meeting Neil halfway through the yard.
Neil runs to him with a joyful look on his face and a spring in his step. Todd thinks he could easily come up with at least a dozen poems about the sight and of this scene of two friends reuniting after a time spent apart (however short that time may be).
He doesn't know if it's the excitement of seeing Neil or the slippery nature of snow that causes him to lose his footing. He slips on the snow and nearly falls over as he curses.
The only reason Todd remains standing is because Neil rushes to grab him by his arms. Neil helps him find his footing, though he smiles teasingly while doing so.
“You know, I know you're happy to be back, but there are better ways of showing that than falling head over heels like that.”
“Ah, sorry,” Todd mutters. Inwardly, he analyzes Neil's rather strange phrasing. “Thanks, Neil.”
“It's nothing.” Neil huffs out a breath, then he takes a step forward and pulls him in for a hug. His hands find their place circled around Todd’s neck and upper back.
Todd, in turn, puts his hands around Neil's waist. He breathes in deeply, relishing the warmth that radiates from his friend even when the winter is at its coldest. It's nice, Todd thinks. Though, to be fair, he thinks most things about Neil are nice.
“Missed you,” Todd says. The soft strands of Neil's hair tickle against his lips.
He feels Neil's smile against his neck. “I missed you too.”
Neither of them let go of the other just yet. Hugs with Neil are always different than with others. They are deeper, warmer, longer. They always feel right, in a way. Like the two of them are two halves of one soul, reconnected at last. Not that Todd would share such a sappy sentiment with Neil. He just holds him tighter.
Eventually they do pull away from the embrace, both of them a bit tentative.
“You know, you're the first one back here. Aside from me,” Neil says.
“I am? I thought at least Cameron or someone would be here.”
Neil shakes his head. “No, just me.”
“Huh.” It must have been lonely here, Todd thinks but doesn't say. “Well, I'm here now,” he says, not really knowing what to do with the information.
“And thank God you are.” Neil sighs in relief. “I was afraid I might just die of boredom, here in Hellton of all places,” he exclaims dramatically.
Todd feels a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, glad to be of service and help you… not die of boredom, I guess.”
Since there are still a couple of days left of the winter holiday, they'll be spending the time together in their dorm, the cave, really anywhere. Todd looks forward to the scant few tranquil days they still have before their academic duties catch up on them.
“Where would I be without you, my dearest Todd?” Neil grins. He wraps an arm around Todd's shoulders and squeezes him playfully.
Todd laughs at that. “We should probably get inside. It's pretty cold here.”
“Yeah, you're right. Off we go!” Neil says as he begins pulling Todd towards the school.
Todd picks up his baggage from the ground and lets himself be pulled by his excited friend.
Neil keeps his arm around Todd’s shoulders as they walk across the snowy grounds of Welton together.
The weather doesn't feel so cold, after all.
3.
On a chilly spring night, they stand on the roof of the school. It's not quite the end of the term yet, but nonetheless, the air is heavy with the melancholy of impending summertime separation. They stand close enough for their shoulders to brush, but Neil's eyes are fixed on the book in his hands. It's a large brown tome with a cover so simple that it signals the book is here to feed the mind with facts instead of feeding the soul with poetry or theater.
“My parents sent me this,” Neil says, gesturing at the book.
“What is it?” Todd asks, though he has a feeling he already knows the answer.
“A medical textbook, some kind of introduction to different diseases and their symptoms.” Neil flips through the thick book with his thumb. “They want me to get a head-start into studying medicine before summer even gets here.”
“And have you done that?”
“No. I've barely even opened it. I don't understand why they insist on this when I've told them what I truly want time and time again,” Neil says, shaking his head in frustration.
Todd looks at him, scanning the worried lines on his friend's face. Neil's parents really have a talent for dimming the bright smiles he usually wears. Todd secretly resents them for it. “Can I see the book?” he asks.
“Sure.”
Neil hands the book over to Todd, who weighs it in his hand. “This must be at least a thousand pages.”
“1196 pages, to be exact. If the weight of my parents’ expectations doesn’t crush me, this book surely will.” Neil smiles sadly.
Todd doesn’t know how to respond to that, he just observes the downcast look in Neil’s eyes. He flips the book around in his hands and opens it on a random page. The page, completely filled by tiny black print, describes the symptoms of something called thymus cancer. Todd glances at Neil again and an idea forms in his mind. He grabs a handful of pages from the book and then promptly rips them out.
Neil’s mouth opens in shock. “Todd! You weren’t supposed to do that,” he admonishes, though amusement and admiration are both clear in his voice. “What if I had wanted to learn about” —Neil squints at the torn out pages in Todd’s hand— “the ins and outs of thymus cancer?”
“Did you want to?”
“No,” Neil admits with a lopsided smile.
“So you can rip the pages out, can’t you?” Todd throws the ripped pages down from the roof. “It’s like with the desk set. You know you’re not meant for boring medical textbooks.”
Neil looks at the flying pages bashfully. “Well…”
“C’mon, rip them!” Todd offers the book to him. “It’s what Mr. Keating would want you to do.”
Neil shifts to look at Todd with a smile that is awestruck and affectionate all at once. “You really have changed a lot,” he says, sounding proud.
“I guess I have. Now, do it!” Todd holds the book open on his palms, ready for the onslaught of page-ripping.
“Well, if you insist,” Neil says and tears a few pages from the open tome. “Who cares about this stuff, anyway?” He lets the pages flutter over the edge of the building.
Todd laughs and says, “Exactly.” He, too, rips some of the pages out and lets them fly off.
What ensues is a chaotic flurry of white pages filling the darkness of the night. The two boys laugh and clamor as the medical textbook is thoroughly destroyed in their eager hands and pages after pages after pages are sent flying down from the roof. The sound of laughter and ripping fills the silent night.
“Goodbye, my future doctorhood,” Neil exclaims as he throws away an armsful of pages off the roof. “I hope to never see you again!”
After the operation has been finished, the once-thick book still has a few hundred pages left, though it has undergone a significant weight loss journey. Neil and Todd are both left breathless and flushed from the wild bouts of shared laughter and mischief.
Todd looks over the edge to where the pages now lie on the ground. “The janitor is going to hate us.” He frowns a bit despite the lingering giddiness.
“Wrong . The janitor is going to hate the very much anonymous hooligans that caused this mess,” Neil corrects him. He doesn’t seem fazed by the fact, judging by his grin.
Todd huffs out a laugh at that. Then, a silence falls over them, bringing back the usual stillness of nights at Welton. The book still rests in Todd’s hands, and he rips out one last page, this one detailing the symptoms of tachycardia. He lets the wind carry the page away.
In the silence, the only thing he can hear is his own heart, beating an approximate of a thousand beats per minute. It has a habit of doing that in Neil's presence. Suddenly, he thinks that chapter about tachycardia may have been useful.
They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning their elbows on the all-too-short parapet surrounding the roof. They stare into the darkness of the night, breathing the crisp spring air in.
Todd turns his head to look at Neil on his right. He seems to be deep in thought as his eyes are pointed somewhere far away and his lips are slightly parted. An unruly strand of brown hair falls in front of his eyes with a strange sort of elegance. Todd so badly wants to sweep the hair away from his face, to feel if it really is as soft as it looks.
And so he does. Todd reaches his free hand out and carefully tucks the lock of hair behind Neil's ear. He isn't sure what compels him to act on the impulse, but he supposes that that is simply the effect Neil has on him. Neil makes him brave, Todd thinks.
Neil's breath hitches, though he doesn't seem at all startled by the motion. Instead, a small smile forms on his lips as he turns to face Todd. Then he quietly says, “You know, it was never just about the acting.”
“What was?” Todd asks. He sets the textbook down on the parapet.
“The arguments with my parents,” Neil says. “We would only ever fight about the merits of theater versus medical school, but it was like there were always two conversations happening at once.”
Todd’s brow furrows in a wordless question.
Neil's mouth twists into an unsure smile. “I mean— don't you ever feel like your family knows something about you before you even know it yourself? Like they see right through you?”
“I don't really think my family pays that much attention to me,” Todd says awkwardly.
Neil looks stricken as he looks at Todd with widened eyes. “Oh, right… I'm sorry.” He smiles sadly. “I guess we have opposite problems, then.” He slides his hand closer to Todd’s so that their fingers brush ever so slightly. Even that tiny point of contact feels electric.
“I guess so,” Todd says. “What were you going to say about your parents?”
Neil opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I was just—” he begins but trails off. Apprehension is clear on his face despite the dim lighting.
Todd lets Neil gather his thoughts in silence and wordlessly sets his hand on top of Neil’s. He gives it a light squeeze as an attempt to comfort his friend. Todd may not be very good when it comes to feelings, but for Neil he’s willing to try his best.
Neil gladly takes his hand and says, “I was going to say that this” —he gestures at their joined hands— “is exactly what caused all those fights with my father. You see, he has great expectations for me and my future. Top grades, medical school, a high-paying and well-respected profession; I could achieve all of it if I truly tried, and he knows this.” Neil sighs, then continues, “But that is not all he wants from me. A wife, children, and all that entails is expected of me too.”
“But surely he doesn’t expect you to get married yet?” Todd asks, confused.
“No, but some day it’ll become a point of contention. Because that’s one expectation he knows I’ll never be able to fulfill.” Neil looks at Todd, his brown eyes shining with vulnerability and grief. “So, when we argue about acting we are really arguing about this. It’s like I said before: we don’t choose where our passions lie. Not that he understands it.”
Todd holds onto his hand tighter. The more Neil says, the better Todd understands just how much in common the two of them have.
Neil breathes out shakily. “Todd, I— I don’t have the words for this, I don’t know how to say this.”
Suddenly, they’re standing impossibly close, nearly chest-to-chest. Their hands are still joined where they rest on top of the parapet. The night cloaks them in a comforting shadow, carving out a secret space for the two boys where nothing exists but them and their long-overdue words of confession. This world that sentences people like them to live in the shadows doesn’t seem so cruel when one has a companion to navigate the darkness, Todd thinks.
“I think— I think that Lord Alfred Douglas called it the love that dare not speak its name. But I’m not good at speaking like you, so…” Todd swallows, then gathers up courage. Neil has done so much for him in the past months. Time and time again, Neil has reached a hand out to Todd and peeled back layers of shyness and silence in order to make room for bravery and creativity. This time, however, Todd wants to be the one to reach out a metaphorical hand and show Neil just how immense of an impact this newfound courage has had on him.
‘Carpe diem’ is what he thinks when he leans forward and presses his lips to Neil’s. The kiss is a close-mouthed and chaste one, barely more than a tentative brush of their lips. Still, it manages to be just about the most important moment in Todd’s life. Tiny sparks of lightning dance on their connected lips, sending shivers down Todd’s spine. The kiss only lasts a few fleeting moments, and yet it sends his heart into overdrive and his stomach aflutter.
Todd is the first one to pull away, leaving Neil to gather his thoughts. Neil simply stares at him in wide-eyed shock. He makes no move to say anything or even run away; he just stands there, dumbfounded.
For a moment, Todd’s blood runs cold, and his stomach drops. “Oh. Was that not—? I’m so sorry, Neil, oh God,” he babbles and starts to withdraw his hand from where it’s still holding Neil’s.
Todd feels Neil’s hand gripping his own before he can pull it away. Neil looks at him for a moment, eyes scanning Todd’s face with a look of painstaking tenderness. Then, his face splits into a wide grin.
“No, no, don’t you dare apologize. I’m just” —Neil huffs out a laugh— “taken aback.”
Todd’s eyes flick nervously between Neil’s smile and their joined hands. “In a good way?”
“Of course, in a good way,” Neil says and sighs in relief. “Damn. Keating really has gotten through to you. You seized the day before I could even seize control of my thoughts!” Neil smiles at him, as bright as the sun itself. “God, you’re wonderful,” he says, and that’s all the warning Todd gets before Neil leans in and they’re kissing again.
Even though Todd is caught somewhat unawares, this time the kiss is much more sure of what it is. There’s an unspoken understanding that neither of them have done this before, but that doesn't hold them back. Their lips brush against each other with a surprising ease, again and again, until they are both left blushing and panting. It's better than Todd could have possibly dreamed.
Then, all of a sudden, Todd finds himself being lifted off the ground, just an inch or two. Neil's arms are around him, spinning him around like they're the leads of a romantic movie. Their shared laughter rings in the silent night like bells as they pepper each other's faces with tiny kisses.
When Neil eventually sets Todd down on his own two feet, they remain in each other’s arms, eyes pointed adoringly at the other.
“Wow,” Todd says breathlessly.
“Wow, indeed.”
Despite being a poet, Todd doesn't think he could put into words just how overwhelming this pure joy feels like. All he knows is that this connection with Neil—whatever it is and will become—is something he never wants to let go of. Neil is something he never wants to let go of.
Todd kisses him again, this time in order to stifle an overjoyed yell of ‘I kissed Neil Perry’, a yell that would be his first real yawp.