Welton Preparatory School should be isolated. And it is, in a way, with its somber halls and emotionally distant teachers. It feels unreal: one minute, the boys say goodbye to their families, and the other, they're completely alone. They have each other, of course, but it's just them and the school and the surrounding woods—the town less than a mile away is almost out of a fairytale.
Knox goes there the most to see Chris; Charlie goes there to get absurd magazines and lipstick; Meeks and Pitts go for their varied science needs.
Todd doesn't like the down. He doesn't like people in general. He gets lonely, sometimes—most of the time—but with a sociable brother like Jeff, it's easy to fix. It's the crowds that get him: the people, the noise, the need to say something. Small towns are nothing like cities—he likes New York, but that's just because he's a walking cliché—because it's impossible to disappear. Everyone expects something in small towns: hellos, how-are-yous.
Todd can barely manage to say good morning to his professors, and he's been at Welton for almost a year.
So far, he's mostly managed to avoid the town. He walks with Neil to his theater sometimes, but the troupe is understanding and lets him hang out in the changing room while they rehearse. He can see why Neil likes them—"I like you more," Neil says sometimes when he can see that Todd gets anxious.
It's one of the first days of spring, however, and the bright, cheerful sun makes even Welton seem alive. The grounds are filled with boys and the doorways filled with teachers yelling at them to come back inside for classes.
Neil groans loudly when they're summoned and Todd laughs in the same vein. Neil's helped him open up, both when they're in a group and even more so when they're alone together. Neil helps him up and drags him inside, but it's just an excuse to hold hands. The sun's made them brazen, excited; they touch each other more and more, it seems, although they're only truly comfortable inside their room.
Latin's impossible after the brief outside respite.
Todd, at the front of the classroom, can't stop himself from fidgeting, no matter how many dirty looks it gets him. But how can he stop, with the sun shining defiantly through the windows and the rest of the class as uneasy as he is?
"We're going out," Neil announces when they're dismissed.
Todd can't bring himself to disagree.
The trepidation comes when they're walking down Main Street. The small houses on either side of them are quaint but not homey, although the open stores along the street are welcoming. They've come alone—everyone else has classes to be at, homework to do, but Neil can rarely be dissuaded.
"Neil, please…" Todd tries when it seems that they're nearing the only diner in town.
Neil flashes him a smile, full of dimples and sparkling teeth. "We can go back if you want," he offers.
And if Todd takes him up on it, they will. Neil won't complain or be passive-aggressive. He won't even tell the rest of the guys if Todd asks. So Todd shakes his head and makes a vague gesture for Neil to keep leading them forward; Neil throws an arm over him in what can easily be a platonic gesture.
It isn't, but no one in the diner questions it when they walk in together. Todd almost baulks when they do—it's bright, loud, packed with students from the local high school and their few free Welton classmates.
"Grab a seat, I'll get something." Neil pushes him towards a booth towards the back of the diner and Todd stumbles into it. He doubts he's going to be hungry, but Neil is confidently ordering at the counter, so he tries to relax until Neil returns with a confident "Got it."
He slides in right next to Todd. A risky move if not for the crowds leaning over the other side of it.
"It's easier to share this way," Neil explains for the possible eavesdroppers.
Todd doesn't argue. It's easier when Neil is pressed against him, their hands brushing against each other under the table. There are couples sitting similarly all around them: girls and boys from the local high school, dressed in their spring clothes and grinning at the new season.
It's almost possible to pretend that they're one of the couples—and they are, but only in a way. He doubts that any of the patrons would be understanding of his and Neil's courtship.
Because that's what it is. That's what this diner trip is all about—it's a date, and for all that Todd is close to crawling out of his skin, he's pleased. They rarely get to do anything outside their room—and while Todd doesn't like the need for secrecy, he's a quiet, private person at heart, and he likes having Neil to himself.
He whispers with Neil until their French fries come—one portion, easier to share and cheaper to pay for without being in debt to their parents—then shares the food; their hands are linked the entire time. It's harder to hide without their long winter coats and while in normal clothing, but the longer they sit, the more comfortable Todd becomes.
Neil leans over, clearly pleased. "I told you it would be fun."
Todd nods. "Guess so."
"I have good ideas."
Todd laughs, and the rest of his uneasiness falls from his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess so."
That's the kind of effect Neil has on him, not that Todd's complaining. He's almost completely forgotten about the crowd and the brightness, but everything has its limit. With the fries done and the daylight waning outside, he can feel fatigue once again creeping over him, and tries not to lean too much into Neil's side.
"Ready to go?" Neil asks, then, almost as if he can read Todd's mind.
Todd nods, and he's pretty proud of himself, to be honest. He's made it into town and sat in the diner for almost two hours—but everything's easy when Neil's there—and it's time to go. That's how everyone else handles socialization. He grins and lets Neil pull him up and out of the diner.
Neil's an exuberant guy; everyone knows this, especially after his success in A Midsummer Night's Dream. He's doing his second play with the theater in a few weeks, so the free evening is doubly enjoyable.
"Thanks," Todd says as they walk back to Welton.
The air is once again brisk around them. It's only April, the warmth and sunlight a mere day's respite from the usual Vermont chill, and as the night comes down, Todd and Neil walk more quickly. Now that it's dark and Welton's grounds are once again their prison, they hold hands freely.
The radiator is turned off in their room, now, and for all that their parents threaten the school to provide extra blankets, boys must learn to be men; no warmth or convenience is allowed for the chilly nights. It's a beautiful irony that they cuddle for warmth while their parents expect them to become proper gentlemen.
Neil kisses him, shuts the door of their room, then kisses him again. "Anything for my boyfriend."
Todd grins and kisses him back; they're kissing and going on dates in the town diner like a proper couple. "Thanks, boyfriend."