Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets Society. I did have a dream about eloping with Charlie, though. Does that mean I can have some claim over him, at least?
A/N: I promised DeadPoet0712 I'd write this for her weeks ago and I've finally gotten around to it. So once again, this is dedicated for her. I hope she enjoys it and the rest of you do as well. Leave a review and let me know what you think.
He's not quite sure what he's doing when he taps his knuckles against the glass of the window. Now that's he's had time to think, this whole idea just seems silly. It's risky. Reckless. He knows he's just asking for trouble but even if he wanted to, he couldn't turn back now. He wonders if he's doing the right thing- confronting everything he's worked so hard to avoid. He wonders if it's wrong to bring her into this. He wonders why he hadn't thought to talk to her sooner.
His head is swimming and thoughts are ricocheting around his brain with the force of an unstoppable freight train. Some things he realizes he wants to think about. Some things he doesn't. So he's not sure what he wants to get out of this or what he hopes to achieve. He just knows what he needs.
Comfort. Sympathy. Someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on.
Her. He just needs her.
When his first knock goes unnoticed and the lights in the room in front of him remain off, Knox raps the glass again- a little louder to capture her attention but still soft enough so that, hopefully, he won't wake her parents. He's just about to knock again when the lights suddenly flip on. He waits patiently for a moment and listens to the rise and fall of her footsteps shuffling across the carpeted floor; leaning back from the window just in time for her to appear and open it.
"Knox," she hisses, her voice still thick and groggy from sleep. "What are you doing? Do you have any idea what time it is?"
He blinks and after a beat answers, "No." It had been late when he left, he was sure of that much. His own parents had been in bed for hours and judging by the disheveled appearance of the girl in front of him, so had she. He feels a momentary pang of guilt and offers a sheepish shrug. "Sorry for waking you," he mumbles.
Her expression slowly softens and gives way to the smile he loves to see. "It's alright." She takes a step back from the window and opens it a little more in invitation. He's lost track of the amount of times she's done this for him- let him in to her room and her life and her heart without question or judgment- but the gesture still causes his heart to skip a beat.
He slams his head against the top of the windowsill as he climbs in and he raises his hand to gingerly rub the burgeoning bump on the back of his skull, ignoring the throbbing pain the best he can. When he looks over at her, his cheeks staining a light pink in embarrassment, he sees that she's still smiling and the action is so beautiful- so infectious- that a smile involuntarily dances across his lips.
He can't remember the last time that happened. His may not be the same- it's a forced as hers is genuine and as dull as hers is bright- but it's a start. And a good one, at that. He feels like a weight's been lifted from his shoulders because he can actually smile again. She's made him smile.
"April," he starts, his voice soft and quiet. He struggles for a moment to produce the words he needs to say but they just fail him. His mouth has gone dry and his throat has closed up and he knows what he needs to admit and accept but he just can't.
Her smile doesn't fade but simply shifts into a tight line of sympathy across her lips. "I know," she whispers tenderly and she closes her delicate hand around his own that he's unknowingly extended in her direction. "Neil?"
Knox forces himself to swallow the lump that's formed in his throat. "N-Neil," he confirms with a curt nod.
April nods in understanding and laces their fingers together in an attempt to give him some comfort. "I heard." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Knoxy," she murmurs, relying on the nickname she christened him with to convey the honesty behind her words.
There's something about the way she's looking at him and the quiet tone of her voice that causes something inside of him to just snap. He's fought- and fought hard- against displaying his feelings since Neil's death but standing in front of her now, he can't imagine holding back any longer.
And so without any hesitation, he begins to cry.
It's embarrassing but oddly enough, he doesn't feel embarrassed. He's not concerned about what she's thinking and how she's seeing him because he knows she'd never be anything but good to him. She won't judge him or think any less of him. She makes him feel comfortable- like he can do and say anything he wants- and there's no one else he knows that has that effect on him.
She lets go of his hand and instead, winds her tiny arms around his waist and lays her head on his chest. She doesn't say anything- doesn't try to stop the flow of tears or shush him. She just lets him cry and let everything out and he couldn't be more thankful for her than he is in that moment.
As his body begins to tremble under the force of his sobs, he grabs a hold of the flimsy fabric of her nightdress and uses it like a proverbial tether- his one tie to what's real and what's important. She's his lifeline.
He supposes that in a way, she always has been. She's been there for him through every high and every low since they were five years old and he can't think of any significant event in his life that she hasn't been present for. He relies on her, maybe more than he should at times, and when she leans up on the very tip of her toes to press a kiss to his wet cheek, he remembers exactly why that is.
Knox idly wonders if Chris would ever have comforted him like this and it doesn't take very much for him to decide that no; she wouldn't have. She could have never been what he needed because everything he needs is right here in his arms. Chris was a feather in the wind- beautiful and alluring and forever just out of reach and the thrill of the chase kept him enamored. And for everything she was, there was a list a mile long of things she wasn't.
He wonders how he could have been blind to realize this fact until now- now when he's a blubbering sobbing mess and reeling over the loss of a best friend. The world has never been more difficult to understand but it's never been clearer, either.
"April, April, April," he chants, choking a little as he continues to cry; the sobs making it difficult for him to breath. "I love you. I love you." The words tumble past his lips before he stops to think about them but he knows they're true. Its just right- he can feel it. He just knows. And he's sure he's always known but he's been too preoccupied or too stupid to realize it.
He can hear the quiet hitch of her breath but he doesn't worry about whether or not it's a good thing because he's not going to give her a chance to tell him. He stares down at her for a minute fraction of a second before leaning down to crush his lips against hers. The emotion pouring through him- the hurt and the love and the appreciation and the joy- just fuses together into one big wave and he feels like his heart just might burst under the weight of it.
Knox brings his hand up and settles it on the back of her neck, knotting his fingers into her hair. This finally seems to coax a reaction out of her and she cautiously begins to move her mouth against his and when she does, everything just falls right into place like it was simply meant to be. Somehow he knows that this is exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was looking for. He's never been more certain of anything in his life.
His tears slowly begin to trickle off as they kiss and every thing that's been torn apart inside of him is fixed. His heart is beating again.
He runs his tongue across the seam of her lips and a quiet sigh falls from his mouth as she opens her own to grant him access. The unfamiliar rhythm and dance of their tongues takes a moment for them both to get used to but they slowly adjust and there's a new level of passion to their kiss.
Knox carefully backs her up until her knees come in contact with the edge of her bed. He pushes her down onto it, reluctantly breaking the kiss as he does so. He's lightheaded and his breathing is coming in harsh, sharp little pants but he can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. Everything feels fuzzy around the edges- almost like he's high or in some kind of haze. The feeling is strange but not unpleasant and he doesn't want to ever snap out of it.
The smile on April's face is dazzling and he just can't seem to look away from her. She's beautiful, inside and out, and she's going to be his. She is his.
The urgency within him is gone; the fire momentarily quelled. He no longer feels the urge to grab her and kiss her- just to hold her and cuddle. And that's exactly what he does. He slowly eases himself down next to her on the bed and wraps his arms around her waist.
She curls up next to him and lulls her head onto his chest, nuzzling her face into the cotton fabric of his shirt. There's no pressing need to say anything because a simple look or a touch can say it all for them. Knox simply watches her watch him and then watches as she drifts off to sleep- the hint of a smile still etched across her lips.
There are things they'll need to discuss, of course, and obstacles they'll need to overcome. This is new and exhilarating and it both excites him and terrifies him at the same time. Perhaps this hadn't been what he'd had in mind when he'd left his house not even an hour before but to him, it's even better. She's done what she does best- picked him up and healed him without even having to try.
When he finally closes his eyes, there's an unspoken promise he never thought would be possible again. The hope for a better tomorrow.