I saw this movie for the first time today, and fell in love with it immediately. This is just a one-shot written because I can't get Dead Poets Society out of my head. Oh, I apologise in advance for the poetry; I've never written a poem before in my life. Reviews are nice.
Neil was sprawled on his bed reading from the Dead Poets Society book that Keating had left on his desk. One leg was bent, leaning against the wall and the other out straight, dangling his foot over the edge of the bed. His brown hair that always looked so soft kept flopping across his face and he would shake his head a little to remove it from his line of sight. Once he reached up and brushed the hair back with his hand, but this was no more effective.
Todd was working. Todd was trying to work. Todd was watching Neil. He looked so intense when he was reading poetry, so absorbed that Todd couldn't be sure he was still in this world. Emotions played undiluted across his face, quirking his lips and furrowing his brow. Neil was deep in the words and Todd was finding himself deep in Neil.
He shook his head and focused back on his page of work. A blank sheet of paper. Hadn't he been working on this for half an hour already? He couldn't even remember what it was about. He could see Neil quiver in the corner of his eye, and knew he had gotten to that poem; the one he read every night. Todd quivered in response as he thought of Neil's muscles rippling beneath the skin to create that unrestrained trembling. The stark white page in front of him dragged his mind back to focus and he only just stopped himself sighing. Original Poetry. Read aloud.
In the times you don't remember I'm here
You forget yourself and forget the human race
He couldn't read that out. He couldn't. Neil had pulled his leg back onto the bed. His pants were pulled taught over him,defining the linesof his body. Todd knew no one else saw him like this. This was who Neil was. When he was lost in poetry passion shone in his eyes and the feelings that were so plain on his face moved like shadows. Todd fiercely scribbled over his poem and started again. He couldn't seem to find a different opening two lines; it was all too far buried in his mind now.
In the times you don't remember I'm here,
When you forget yourself and the entire human race,
I can see the world and the way to life
Written in soft lines upon your face.
Neil stretched and the hem of his shirt rose up, momentarily exposing pure, flawless skin. Todd felt like all the space to breath had closed up. He stood and left the room without explanation, trying to avoid looking at Neil, just trying to get out, get air. Neil stood up slowly, moving gracefully with the kind of control most 17 year olds could not manage. He lowered himself to perch on the edge of Todd's bed and looked at the piece of paper that had been deserted there.
Neil quivered.