Chapter Text
That Friday night, Neil could see his breath coming in white puffs as he walked. The chill had deepened as the night went on, and Neil’s nose had to be bright red by now. Neil was just behind Charlie and Ginny, holding hands without a care in the world. A pang of… Something. Envy, maybe, struck Neil’s heart at the sight. He forced himself to think of other things, keeping his eyes on the forest floor so wouldn’t trip over a tree root or a rock. Neil did not need any more embarrassment this week.
And then he heard voices, laughter drifting from further back, pieces of a conversation he wasn’t privy to.
He recognized the voice immediately. Todd. His laughter, bright and beautiful, so unguarded and real it made Neil’s heart stutter in his chest. Todd, mystery in human form.
He was always there, just at the edges: meetings, study groups, mealtimes, everywhere Neil tried not to look too closely.
Neil had noticed it earlier at dinner at the pizza place, the careful way Todd positioned himself in their group. Close enough to be included. Far enough not to be next to Neil.
It stung like biting winter wind.
"Think we'll get through a whole meeting without Cameron complaining about the cold?" Charlie asked, grinning over his shoulder at Neil. It was his voice that jolted Neil out of his thoughts.
"Doubtful," Knox replied. "He's already mentioned it twice on the walk here."
Sure enough, Cameron's voice drifted from behind them, "I'm just saying, we could meet in the library sometime like normal people—"
"Where's the fun in that?" Charlie called back. "The romance? The danger? Keating would be disappointed in you, Cam."
Neil snorted at that. Cameron craved academic validation so much it had to hurt, but… Well. He was here, wasn’t he?
When they turned the corner just before where the cave lay, suddenly the cold didn’t quite matter as much. Neil had never been more grateful to see the jagged mouth of the cave in his life.
They reached the entrance, and one by one, the group filed inside. It was marginally warmer in there, sheltered from the wind. Charlie had brought candles this time, and he set about lighting them while everyone found their usual spots on the rocks and ground.
Neil settled onto a flat rock near the back wall, pulling his coat tighter around him as he shivered. The candles caught Charlie’s lighter flame, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. He'd always loved this part. The way the space transformed from a dark hollow into something almost warm when light hit it, be it candlelight or flashlights. Neil wondered, briefly, if anyone else at Welton ever went out to this old cave anymore. But he liked the idea of it being just theirs, the nine of them. Their little secret hidden in plain sight.
Todd entered last, hesitating at the mouth of the cave for just a moment before spotting a rock a few feet from Neil. Not right next to him, but not across the cave either. Somewhere in between. Neil could live with that.
He pretended not to notice, but he noticed anyway. Like always. Todd's knee bounced slightly, a nervous habit Neil had picked up on weeks ago. He kept his hands shoved in his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched forward against the cold.
"Alright, alright!" Charlie stood in the center of the cave, his arms spread wide. "The Dead Poets Society is now in session! And we have some celebrating to do tonight."
"Hear, hear!" Knox cheered, and the others joined in.
Charlie gestured to Neil and Ginny. “Our actors once again,” he grinned.
They’d been through this spiel already at dinner, but it made Neil smile anyway. The support was refreshing. His friends erupted in applause and whoops. Neil felt his face warming up, but he couldn't help grinning. Ginny bounced excitedly from her spot next to Chris, and she stood to do a little bow.
"Speech! Speech!" Steven called out, and Gerard laughed beside him.
"Oh, god, no," Neil protested, but Charlie was already pulling him to his feet.
"Come on, Perry, you're an actor now. Gotta get used to being in the spotlight."
Neil stood up reluctantly, aware of everyone's eyes on him. Including Todd's. Especially Todd's, actually. Those grey-blue eyes always knew how to bore right into his soul, or so it seemed.
"I don't—" He cleared his throat. "I'm just really excited, honestly. It's everything I wanted. Getting to do this, getting to be on stage..." He paused, then glanced at Todd without meaning to. "It means a lot that you guys support me. Thank you."
"Here's to Neil!" Charlie raised an imaginary glass. "May he not forget us little people when he's famous!"
Everyone laughed, and Neil sat back down, relieved to be out of the spotlight. But as he settled back onto his rock, he caught Todd's eye for just a second. Todd was smiling. Not the polite smile, no, but the real one. The smile that made Neil's chest feel too warm despite the October chill.
"Ginny, you want to say anything?" Charlie asked.
"Just that I'm thrilled!" Ginny replied, still bouncing. "And I can't wait for rehearsals to start."
"When do rehearsals start, anyway?" Cameron asked.
"Next week," Neil answered. "Monday, I think. Ms. Jameson wants us to hit the ground running since we only have about six weeks until opening night."
"Six weeks," Chris repeated thoughtfully. "That's December 15th, right? A few days before winter break starts."
"Perfect timing," Gerard chimed in. "We can all go home for the holidays and brag about how talented our friends are."
"Speak for yourself," Charlie muttered. "My parents will probably just ask why I'm not in the play too."
“Well, your parents can shove it,” Ginny told him firmly. “Besides, your girlfriend is it, what more could they want?” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Charlie’s cheek.
Knox looked like he was about to be sick, and Neil couldn’t blame him. Cameron rolled his eyes from his spot near the cave entrance. "Can we please just get to the actual meeting? Some of us are freezing."
"You're always freezing, Cameron," Charlie said.
He slung his arm around Ginny’s waist as he addressed the group. "Alright, who brought us some poetry?"
Steven stood up. "I did. It’s from old Uncle Walt."
"Of course it is," Charlie teased, but his tone was fond. "Let's hear it, Meeksie."
Steven pulled out a worn paperback from his coat pocket and flipped to a bookmarked page. He cleared his throat, and the cave fell silent except for the faint whistle of wind outside.
"This is from 'Song of Myself,'" Steven began, his voice steady and clear:
"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass."
He paused, then looked up from the book. "I just like that part. About inviting your soul and aking time to just... be. We're all so busy all the time. Classes, sports, clubs, all that. Sometimes I think we forget to just exist."
"I understand what you mean," Chris said softly. “I’m glad we have this little club. If only just to get away from it all for a little while.” Her eyes were shining.
"Very Keating of you," Gerard added with a smile.
Steven ducked his head, a bit embarrassed, and sat back down next to Gerard. Their hands ended up clasped together in Steven’s lap.
"Anyone else?" Charlie asked, looking around at everyone.
"I brought something," Ginny said after a moment of quiet, pulling a folded piece of paper from her jacket. "It's by Mary Oliver. It’s called, Wild Geese."
She unfolded the paper and began to read, her voice steady and sure. “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."
Neil felt something catch in his chest. He kept his eyes on Ginny, but he could see Todd gone very still in his periphery. The bounce of his knee had stopped.
Ginny continued, "Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — over and over announcing your place in the family of things."
She folded the paper back up, and for a moment no one spoke.
"Damn," Charlie said finally. “Heavy stuff.”
"But, like, in a good way," Chris added quickly.
"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "I just... I like the idea that you don't have to be perfect, you know? That you're allowed to just be yourself. Even when it's messy, even when you don't have everything figured out."
When she sat back down, Charlie took Ginny’s hand and squeezed it.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
The words hung in the air, heavy. Undeniable.
"I have one," Todd said suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him.
Neil's heart jumped. Todd never volunteered to read during meetings. Yet here he was, pulling a small book from his jacket pocket. It was the same one he always carried, full of dog-eared pages and sticky notes. His hands shook, but he took deep breaths as if trying to steel himself. He flipped to a page somewhere in the middle.
“This is Ginsberg's Song,” Todd said softly, but there was something defiant in it.
The cave went very still. Neil felt his pulse quicken. Ginsberg. Todd was reading Allen Ginsberg poetry in front of God and everybody. And from the way his jaw was set, he knew exactly what he was doing. Ginsberg. Fucking Hell. Was the universe playing some sick joke?
Todd’s voice was still soft when he began to read, and Neil could have sworn he stopped breathing for a moment.
"The weight of the world is love."
He paused, and Neil could see his throat working as he swallowed. Then he continued, his voice steadier.
"Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction, the weight, the weight we carry is love."
Todd's eyes stayed glued to the page, but the flush from his cheeks was creeping up his neck now. He kept reading, and when he got to the lines about who can deny it, about the burden of life and the heavy weight of the dream, his voice didn't waver at all. He was more comfortable then, or maybe he just wasn’t thinking as hard. But Neil could see the way his knuckles had gone white where he gripped the book.
"What is this love that loves us?" Todd read, and something in his voice cracked just slightly on the word love, but he pushed forward.
"I have turned, I have told — bodies, souls — and underneath everything, the secret."
The word secret hung in the air for a long moment. Neil waited, holding his breath, for Todd to continue.
Todd kept going, reading about the lightness, about the ecstasy of being together in the darkness.
When he reached the final lines, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"...that we shine together in the dark, that the weight of the world is love."
The silence after he finished was nearly deafening. Todd closed the book and kept his eyes down, but Neil could see his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. He wanted to pull him into his arms, hug him, tell him how wonderful he was.
But Neil did none of those things. He clapped instead, and the others slowly joined him.
"That's..." Chris started as the applause died down, then she seemed to lose the words. "That's really beautiful, Todd."
"Ginsberg," Cameron said carefully. "That's definitely a choice."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Todd's voice had an edge. Suddenly that boy Neil met on move-in day as back, all his sharp edges and snippy words. Todd’s chin lifted slightly, defensive.
"Nothing," Cameron said quickly. "Just that he's... You know. Heavy. Intense."
"He writes about the truth," Todd said, and Neil could hear his heart pounding in his own ears. "About things people are afraid to say out loud. That's not heavy. At least, I don’t think so. I think it’s brave."
The cave went quiet. No one else volunteered to read.
"The weight of the world is love," Steven told Todd after he sat back down. "I like that. Like love is this enormous thing we all carry but pretend doesn't weigh anything."
"Exactly," Todd replied, and some of the tension left his shoulders. But his hands were still shaking slightly when he shoved the book back in his pocket.
Neil couldn't look away from him. Couldn't process what had just happened. Todd had just read in front of everyone, and a Ginsberg poem no less. Had read about bodies and souls and secrets, about shining together in darkness, and done it with his chin up like he was daring someone to say something.
Screw it, Neil thought, watching Todd's profile in the candlelight. He said screw it and just did it anyway.
"That took guts," Chris said softly, and there was something knowing in her voice as she reached over to squeeze Todd’s hand. "Reading for the first time, I mean. Thank you for sharing that with us, Todd."
Todd just nodded, not looking at anyone. But Neil was looking at him. He saw the slight tremble in Todd’s hands before he shoved them back in his pockets.
Charlie stood up, and for once he didn't have a joke or anecdote ready. "I think that's a good place to end," he said quietly. "It's late, and we should probably head back."
Everyone started gathering their things, picking up flashlights, blowing out candles. The energy in the cave had shifted. Not in a bad way, exactly, but it was heavier. More thoughtful. Neil stood slowly, his mind still turning over what had just happened.
Todd reading Ginsberg. Todd defending it. Todd looking like he'd just jumped off a cliff and was waiting to see if he'd land on his feet or fall flat on his ass.
The group filed out of the cave one by one. Neil hung back, letting others go ahead. Todd did the same, and for a moment they were alone at the entrance.
"That poem," Neil said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was..."
He trailed off. He didn't know how to finish. Brave? Reckless? A message?
Todd looked at him, and in the moonlight Neil could just barely make out his expression. Uncertain. Scared. But also something else. Determined, maybe, like he'd made a choice and was standing by it.
"It's one of my favorites," Todd said simply. As if that cleared anything up.
Neil wanted to say more. Wanted to ask why that poem, or why tonight, or what are you trying to tell me? But the words stuck in his throat.
"It's one of my favorites now, too," he managed at last.
Something flickered across Todd's face. Neil thought it was surprise. But before either of them could say anything else, Charlie's voice called from up ahead, "You two coming or what?"
"Coming!" Neil called back.
They started walking, falling into step with each other. Naturally, despite everything. The woods were quiet except for the crunch of leaves under their feet and the distant sound of their friends ahead.
"Neil," Todd said after a minute, his voice so soft Neil almost didn't hear it. "About this week—"
"It's okay," Neil interrupted, even though he wasn't sure if it was. "We're okay. Or… We will be. We just need some time."
"Time," Todd repeated, and there was something almost sad in his voice. "Yeah. Okay."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but it was different from the silence earlier that week. Less sharp. Less painful. But also loaded with everything they weren't saying.
Maybe they really would be okay. Neil hoped so.
By the time they reached the main campus, splitting off from the group with quiet goodnights, Neil felt something loosen in his chest. Not completely. Not entirely. But enough to make breathing a little easier.
They walked back to their dorm together, shoulders not quite touching but not miles apart either. And when they reached their room’s door, Todd turned to him before going inside.
"Congratulations," he said, and his voice was steadier now. "On the play. I know I said it earlier, but I mean it. You're gonna be incredible."
"Thanks, Todd." Neil managed a smile. "And thanks for... For tonight. For reading. For, I don’t know, throwing caution to the wind. What you did… It was brave."
Todd's eyes widened slightly, like he hadn't expected Neil to acknowledge it directly. "I just—" He stopped, then tried again. "I'm just tired of being so damn scared all the time."
Neil's breath caught in his throat but he recovered quick enough to reply, “Yeah. Me too."
They stood there for a moment longer, the hallway quiet around them, and Neil felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of them. The weight of what Neil felt for him, of whatever Todd was dealing with, of their torn friendship slowly mending itself. But maybe that was okay. Maybe they didn't need to say it all at once.
Todd nodded once, then he pushed open the door. They went inside, and for the first time all week, it felt almost like coming home.
By early November, Neil was drowning between rehearsals and classes, yearbook and soccer. But he loved it. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
Except for Friday nights before Dead Poets Society meetings. A quiet room and two boys, just trying to be friends. Trying to fix the mess they’d made.
The week after Halloween was when it got worse, somehow. Neil stared at his calculus homework sheet and tried to force his brain to focus, damn it. But all he really wanted to do was watch Todd, like the dumb teenager he was.
Todd was seated at his desk with an open notebook in front of him and a pencil in his hand. He was quiet as usual. He paused mid-scrawl. His nose scrunched up, that thing he did when a sentence wasn't working, and he dragged the eraser across the page aggressively.
"What rhymes with 'devotion'?" Todd muttered, more to himself than to Neil.
Neil's mouth opened to give him an answer before he could think better of it. "Ocean? Motion?"
Todd's head snapped up, like he'd forgotten Neil was there. Their eyes met for half a second before Todd looked back at his paper. "Emotion might work."
He wrote something, then immediately frowned and erased it.
"Actually, no it doesn't." Todd slumped in his chair with a soft groan. "This essay is terrible."
The old Neil, the one from two months ago, would've made a joke. Would've teased him about it. Would’ve made some stupid competitive jab. But Neil was… different, now. He just watched Todd's shoulders curve inward, watched him tug at his hair, and felt the careful distance between them like some physical thing. It was the chasm again, the canyon Neil still had no idea how to cross.
"Want me to read it?"
The offer hung in the air. Todd's hand stilled around his pencil. He didn't turn around.
"If you want," he said finally. Casual. Too casual.
Neil set aside his textbook and crossed the room. The six feet between their desks felt longer than it should.
He leaned over Todd's shoulder. They weren’t quite touching, but then again, they never were quite touching anymore. Neil’s eyes scanned the first paragraph. This close, he could smell Todd's shampoo, that ocean scent that had somehow become familiar over the past few months. He could see the way Todd's hair curled at the nape of his neck where it was starting to grow out.
Neil forced his eyes away from Todd. Back to the book.
Gatsby's dream was built on a foundation of self-deception, the essay read. He convinced himself that Daisy had never loved Tom, that she had been waiting for him all along, that the past five years could simply be erased…
"This sentence here." Neil pointed, very aware of how close his hand was to Todd's shoulder. "It's running on a bit. Maybe you could split it up?"
"Yeah. Okay."
Todd made the change. His hand moved across the page quickly, and Neil found himself watching. This was the same hand that had fumbled with his tie this morning. The hand that brushed his that awful day in Hager’s class for just a second too long before he’d jerked away like he'd been burned.
Neil stepped back, if only to put some space between them again.
He cleared his throat. "The rest is good. Your thesis is solid."
"It's not as good as yours would be.”
"Oh, come on. That’s bullshit,” Neil chuckled as he returned to his bed, to the calculus problem he still hadn't solved. "I overthink that stuff too much, trust me. You're better at it than you think you are."
Todd didn't answer, but his cheeks were pink. He turned back to his notebook, but not before Neil caught the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
They fell back into silence. Todd wrote. Neil stared at the integrals worksheet. The radiator clanked on, filling the room with warmth. Down the hall, someone's music leaked through the walls. Neil had no idea what it was, something orchestral he didn't recognize.
Then Neil’s phone buzzed, breaking the quiet.
"Hey." Neil looked up from his phone. "Charlie wants to grab pizza tonight before Dead Poets. Are you gonna come?"
Todd's writing stopped. He didn't turn around, just sat there with his hands hovering over the desk.
"To get pizza or to the meeting?"
"Both."
A pause. Long enough that Neil's stomach started to knot itself.
"Yeah," Todd said finally. "I'll come."
"Cool."
“Cool.”
Neil went back to his homework. Todd went back to writing. The moment passed, but Neil's heart was still beating too fast.
We're okay, he told himself.
Except they weren't, not really. They were just getting really good at pretending. Neil wondered how long it would take for the other shoe to drop.
They studied in companionable silence for another hour. Outside, November darkness had fallen early. The light above their heads cast a warm glow across the room. The radiator hummed softly. Someone down the hall was playing music from a stereo or CD player, something classical Neil didn't recognize.
It was peaceful, almost domestic.
And that was the problem, wasn't it? These moments when things felt easy and right and comfortable, those were the dangerous times. The ones that made Neil forget that this couldn't last. That eventually something would have to give. The canyon between them would crack and crumble until suddenly it wasn’t a canyon at all anymore.
At half past seven, Todd shut his notebook, stood, stretched. His shirt rode up slightly, exposing a strip of skin at his lower back, and Neil's eyes fell on it before he could look away.
Stop it.
"Neil?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." Todd's voice was quiet. "For reading my essay."
"Anytime."
Todd turned around then, just slightly. Not quite facing Neil, but not hiding either. The lamp light caught the side of his face, softened the line of his jaw.
Another beat of silence passed. Then Todd said, even quieter, "I'm glad we're..." He trailed off. Tried again. "Things are better than they were."
Neil's throat felt tight. "Yeah. They are."
Better wasn't the same as good, though. Better still meant careful. Still meant watching every word, every gesture, every accidental touch. Still hiding in case Neil’s father really did have eyes everywhere.
But it was something, at least.
Todd held his gaze for one more second, then turned back to his essay. Neil stared at his calculus textbook and didn't see a single number. All he could see was Todd’s eyes and his smile and his stupid dimples, and… Okay, this train of thought was going absolutely nowhere.
The radiator hummed. The music played. Neil’s alarm clock ticked. And the earth kept on spinning.