Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a long day at Wellton. As the bell rang, the boys rushed out of Trigonometry class, wanting to get as far away as possible from their professor’s monotone drone.

“Hope the captain's got an interesting lesson, eh? End off our day on a good note,” Charlie joked, nudging a half-asleep Knox.

Knox nudged him back, causing a play-fight to ensue, with the poets laughing at their antics as they walked to Mr. Keating’s classroom.

They stopped dead in the unusually silent classroom, looking at each other in confusion. Instead of Mr. Keating’s smiling face and welcoming presence, they were greeted with the words “Please do your assigned reading :)” written shakily on the board. The captain was at his desk, head down, ignoring everything that was happening around him.

Bewildered, but not daring to disobey direct orders, the boys quietly shuffled to their seats and did as they were told. As the silence stretched on, so did the tension. As much as they tried to focus, they couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at each other.

After 15 agonising minutes, the silence was finally broken by Mr. Keating clearing his throat. All heads immediately snapped up to him, wondering if he would finally explain the lesson. Perhaps he’ll tease them all for being sheep, blindly following orders; or perhaps he’ll ask them what they got out of this peculiar experience.

However, he didn’t even seem to notice their eyes on him. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at them, eyes trained on his table. It was in these few excruciating seconds when the boys finally took in their professor’s demeanour. Mr. Keating's usually neat hair was messy and slicked with sweat, his shoulders were tense, his fists were curled up, and his whole frame was shaking.

“Sir? Are you okay?” Todd blurted out, his worry outweighing his embarrassment.

Mr. Keating didn’t respond, his laboured breath echoing loud and clear in the exceptionally quiet classroom.

“Captain?” Neil asked softly, trying to get at least some sort of response.

The boys felt like they were punched in their guts when Mr. Keating looked up. Their normally energetic professor looked dead on his feet. His flushed cheeks, pink nose, and the dark circles under his eyes were prominent on his pale face. His jaw was clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed, his eyes glassy.

He didn’t seem to catch the concern hanging thick in the air, instead tilting his head at Neil, as if asking him to repeat his question.

“Are you okay?” Neil repeated, as gently and tenderly as he did the first time.

The question hung in the air as Mr. Keating took a few seconds to register the question. When he finally did, he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly ducked his head into the crook of his arm, overtaken by a harsh coughing fit.

Neil immediately leaped out of his seat and ran to his side, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him. At last his coughs subsided, his wheezing breaths discernible in the anxious silence.

“Thank you,” Mr. Keating whispered hoarsely, barely a sound escaping his lips.

Not knowing what to do, Neil could only smile sadly and walk back to his seat.

The rest of the class was spent in absolute silence.

-

“I feel bad,” Meeks said the moment they left their English classroom.

“He looked exhausted,” Pitts added, a small frown on his face.

The conversation trailed off as they walked into the common room. They settled down in relative silence, still trying to process what had happened in the last hour.

“Why didn’t he call in sick?” Todd finally piped up quietly.

Grim looks appeared on all their faces.

“Are you stupid?” Cameron scoffed.

“Hey! He wasn’t here last year,” Neil immediately jumped to his defense.

“Has your brother not told you?” Knox asked, trying to prevent a fight from happening.

Todd shook his head mutely.

“Last year, when a teacher called in sick, Nolan dragged him into his office and berated him for not fulfilling his responsibilities,” Charlie said, uncharacteristically serious, “Some say he even used the stick on him.”

Todd stared in horror.

Meeks nodded. “He tried to report it to someone, hoping he’d get help, but…”

“You know how Hellton is,” Pitts chimed in as Meeks trailed off, “They’d never believe a school with a reputation such as ours would dare hurt their own.”

“More like they believe it, but are either too poor or too scared to do anything about it,” Meeks muttered, clearly annoyed.

“That’s awful,” Todd whispered.

“Yeah, well,” Charlie shrugged sarcastically, “welcome to Hellton.”

They fell silent after that, trying to concentrate on their work. But by Neil’s constant shifting, Todd’s shaking legs, Charlie’s wandering eyes, Knox’s pencil tapping, and glances shared between Meeks and Pitts, it was clear that the only one actually focusing is Cameron.

“We have to do something,” Neil declared, first to break the silence.

“Whatever it is, I want out,” Cameron snapped, immediately collecting his things and stalking out of the common room. “Last I heard, Keating got called to Mr. Nolan’s office. I don’t want anything to do with that.”

“Whatever it is, I want in,” Charlie wriggled his eyebrows, making the others chuckle.

“What’s your plan?” Meeks asked.

“Maybe a care package?” Todd suggested shyly.

“That’s a great idea,” As always, Neil was the first one to encourage him.

“We could give him some crackers?” Pitts suggested, “He looked like he hadn’t eaten all day.”

“He probably hasn’t,” Knox said sadly.

“How about some tea? My brother used to make them for me when I got sick,” Todd explained.

“Definitely,” Neil agreed, a small grin appearing on his face, “and we can sneak in some medicine that–”

“That I totally, 100%, did NOT steal,” Charlie cut off Neil sharply, “I am a good, Catholic, child of God.”

Charlie’s poker face elicited another round of giggles.

“How do we get it to him?” Knox asked when they had calmed down.

“I have a basket,” Meeks piped up, “I was gonna bring it to our meetings so my coat isn’t used as a picnic blanket.”

“We’ll give it to him while he’s still at Nolan’s,” Neil decided, “so it can’t be traced back to us.”

“Then we better hurry,” Charlie smirked.

With that, the poets fell into action.

-

John Keating was tired. His head was pounding, his ears were blocked, his nose was stuffed, and his throat was parched.

Ashamedly, his bottom was still burning from his punishment. Apparently some of his students had reported him for “slacking at his job”, and Nolan sure his reprimand was unforgettable. Disappointed but not surprised, Keating limped back to his room, already succumbing to his fatigue.

He didn’t expect to see a basket, filled to the brim with light snacks, a thermos of tea, and some medicine. In his haze, he almost missed a tiny slip of note that read, “rest well, captain :)”.

Mr. Keating took a sip of the tea, smiling for the first time that day.