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A/N: Hey, *waves shyly* newbie in DPS fanfiction! This story is mostly what I would like to happen in Dead Poets Society, because I really hated Neil for killing himself in the movie (although I loved him very much at the same time). It's going to be a two-chapter fanfic. I usually don't like slash that's not really there, but for Neil and Todd I have made an exception. I really hope Neil, Todd, or Mr. Keating are not out of character, but I'm not completely sure. Also, English is not my native language, so, if you notice any mistakes, please just let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Poets Society. But, can someone pull some strings, so I get to own just Neil?

Neil hesitated in front of the door. Was he completely sure he wanted to do this? No, of course not, he could never be sure about something like that. He needed to talk to someone about it, though. Knox? No, he was too preoccupied with Chris to care about Neil's doubts and feelings. Charlie – or, as he preferred to be called – Nuwanda? Hell, no! It was more likely for a hippopotamus to appear at Hellton than for Neil to willingly bare his soul to Charlie. Pitts? He would not understand. Meeks? Would he have any idea of what Neil would be talking about? And as for Cameron, Neil was never that close to him. And Todd. Well, he couldn't talk to Todd about Todd! That only left one option…

"Carpe diem," whispered Neil and knocked softly on the door.

"Yes?" came the answer.

"Mr. Keating?" asked Neil while opening the door. "Oh Captain, my Captain?" he added in a vain attempt to joke.

He saw his teacher sitting on his desk with an open book in front of him, and Neil shivered when he remembered the last time he had visited Mr. Keating in his office to talk to him about his father.

"Well, Mr. Perry, what can I do for you today?"

Mr. Keating smirked playfully, and Neil swallowed his last urge to run away – Jesus, run away! – and never, ever open his mouth. He closed the door and walked swiftly towards Mr. Keating.

"Captain." Neil looked down. "I just needed someone to talk to."

"What happened to the boys?" the teacher asked with genuine curiosity.

Neil swallowed hard.

"I think I need someone with more…experience, I must say."

Mr. Keating nodded.

"I see. Well, I'm all ears!" he said eagerly, and, when he noticed Neil's frown, he added, "What's troubling you, young man?"

Neil sank in a chair.

"I – I think I might have feelings for someone."

Mr. Keating didn't look surprised. Could something actually surprise him? Neil didn't know.

"Define feelings."

"Weird feelings I've never felt before like my stomach is being invaded by butterflies when I'm near hi – the person I'm referring to, or like my heart is going to escape my chest due to the wild pounding it's been doing."

"Aha. I see." Mr. Keating's face was lit up by his usual mischievous grin. "I think we have a very lucky girl here."

Neil closed his eyes in despair.

"That's the point, Captain. She's – she's a he."

The teacher's face suddenly turned serious.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, then." he said, raising his shoulders. "A boy. You like a boy."

Now that Neil had gotten rid of his burden there was nothing to stop him.

"I just like being around him. I tried to tell myself that he was just my best friend, but this is not enough! When I see him, my heart skips beats, and I get a warm and fuzzy feeling in my stomach. And when he smiles wildly to me – and that's rarely – I feel even better than I felt when there was a full house applauding me at the end of the play!"

Mr. Keating tried to say something, but Neil continued undisturbed.

"And, I like him. A lot. He moves me, every time he says or does something, it touches me here," said the boy placing his hand on where his heart was. "I think about him all the time, noticing little details no one really notices, like the way he chews his bottom lip when he concentrates or the small smile that forms on his lips when he has lost himself in his thoughts. And when he looks at me… I anticipate every day to get a look for him, just so I can smile to him and show him that, even though he doesn't believe it, I care."

Mr. Keating attempted to speak once more unsuccessfully. Neil kept on babbling. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel tears forming into his eyes as he was lost in emotion.

"But, this is wrong. Don't you see? It comes in contrast to everything I've learned! And my father… he would definitely kill me if he knew! The last time he was angry at me, I almost got sent in a military school! Yet…," he paused, "how can such a pure feeling like the one that's in my heart be so damn wrong?"

Neil stopped abruptly when he realized that he had cursed in front of a teacher, although he knew Mr. Keating didn't mind. He took deep, shaggy breaths, but that didn't ease his quickened pulse. He felt feverish, but terribly relieved. His teacher took the opportunity and spoke.

"These are quite strong feelings you have here," observed Mr. Keating

"Captain," said Neil taking a deep breath, "no one knows about this, but the night of the play I almost killed myself."

He was sitting on his father's desk, his torso naked, and the gun on his hand. His father would never let him pursue a career in acting. His future was set out in every detail before he was even born. The only person his father didn't ask was the person with whose life he was playing with; Neil. His son.

Neil was trapped. He knew that. Ten years! Ten years of his life without doing what he loved most, away from his friends! There was only one way to escape this…future hell that was awaiting him. And it was on his hand. Not his father's. His. He would kill himself, escape this life, and punish his father at the same time. He raised the gun and looked at it. Do it, it whispered. You can do it. All it will take is to press the trigger and it all will be over. Easily. Quickly.

Yes, he would do it, and he felt…relieved. His father wouldn't have his way. No, his father would have Neil's way. Neil would win eventually. It was right. It felt right.

For some reason, an image popped into his head. Todd and him standing on that bridge, laughing, while paper and pens were flying all over them. Todd. Laughing. The world's first unmanned flying desk set… He had made Todd laugh that day.

Mr. Keating looked at Neil stunned. So he could be surprised. His eyes were huge and…scared.

"Y-You did?" the teacher asked in horror.

A small, hysterical laugh escaped Neil's throat.

"Yes, Captain, I had my father's gun into my hand, and I was ready to pull the trigger, but –"

"But?" said Mr. Keating breathlessly.

Neil's brown eyes sparkled, and he laughed naturally this time.

"But I thought of him!" he almost shouted.

Todd and Neil jumping from bed to bed. Todd and his impromptu poem about the sweaty – toothed madman in English class. Todd smiling to him and only to him when he found out he would play Puck. And again, Todd laughing. It was such a beautiful sound, and Neil was so grateful that he had gotten to hear it!

The gun stopped its progress to Neil's temple. What would Todd think if he killed himself? Neil wondered. He would hurt, that was for sure. Neil bit his lip. He was the only one Todd had ever talked to, really. What would he do if Neil was not there? To whom would he talk? Who would care like Neil cared?

Neil let go of the gun quickly and it fell to the desk with a faint thump! The same gun that minutes ago he thought would save him now looked repulsive, violent, disgusting. This gun would take him away from Todd. Neil didn't care for his life. But he cared about Todd. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt himself for a single second, but he wouldn't dare hurt Todd. Todd.

Neil ashamedly wrapped the gun in the white cloth and put it back into his father's drawer. If he couldn't be in the play, then at least he wouldn't lose Todd.

Mr. Keating stared at the boy, whose excitement started to fade. His eyes didn't lose their sparkle this time, but they watered again.

"This is wrong." Neil whispered, burying his face into his hands.

The teacher stood up and brought his face near Neil's, gently taking the boy's hands in his.

"How is love supposed to be wrong, Neil?" he asked. Neil's breath faltered when he heard the word love. "How is something so beautiful that can save lives wrong?"

"Because, Captain, boys aren't supposed to love boys!" His eyes widened at his use of the word love. "Not in that way at least! Boys are supposed to love girls!"

"Neil, Neil, Neil." sighed Mr. Keating. "Look. I believe with have a soul mate in life. Maybe not just one, but we do have a soul mate. And, when we find that soul mate, what is to stop us, Neil, from being with him or with her?"

"I don't know. Conventions?"

"No, ding! Ourselves, Neil. The only thing that is standing in our way is ourselves. And the only way to seize the day is to follow our instincts and tell our brain 'Shut up, folk, I'm trying to live here!'"

Neil smiled, but he frowned again. Mr. Keating hit him playfully on the shoulder.

Neil gave him a quizzical look.

"What should I do, Captain?" he asked.

The teacher raised his shoulders, his mischievous smirk back on his face.

"I'd say… talk to him. You'll never know what you may find," he said, focusing mainly on the word talk, as if to remind Neil that he hadn't followed his advice the previous time.

"But…," he started and then immediately stopped.

Isn't there an easier way? he wanted to ask, just like when Mr. Keating suggested that he should talk to his father about acting. The idea of talking to Todd, making his feelings know, scared the hell out of him. Maybe even more than talking to his father. Because, let's face it, Neil was a coward. Maybe, he mused, maybe that was the reason he was so good in acting. He was playing the part of the "dutiful son," driven by fear, all of his life. How could he not be good at acting?

Mr. Keating was still smiling at him. Neil, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, stood up.

"You're such a great boy, Neil. You deserve to be happy."

"Thank you, Captain," he murmured and then left.

A/N: Consider Mr. Keating's words of wisdom about ourselves being the only thing that's standing in our way to happiness some words of wisdom from me. It's something I learnt pretty recently.

Review, pretty pretty please? Constructive critcism is welcome!