Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets Society. If I did, I'd be curled up in a bed somewhere with Charlie rather than writing.
A/N: I got this idea randomly after re-watching the film Manic, which happens to be one of my favorites. I was just curious to see what I could do with it and this is what I ended up with. It actually turned out to be one of the most challenging and draining things I've ever written due to the subject matter so I hope the payoff is worth it. Any kind of feedback is appreciated. It's what keeps me writing!
September 8, 1959
The ward is relatively quiet. Hardly anyone speaks above muffled whispers or hisses. There's very little noise save for the scuffle of the rubber of the shoes of the nurses or the rattle of pills in a cup or an occasional, faint shout from the floor above them.
Subtle nods are exchanged along with faint, faked smiles and sympathetic glances. Words aren't necessary. Not in a place like this. Everyone knows what the other has to say. The stories of broken homes and abuse and violence and hurt- they're all the same; recycled and repeated like broken records.
My father this or my mother this and so I did this and that's what got me here. A plus B equals C and it never changes. They're all interchangeable- someone leaves and then someone takes their spot, like the flow of air or the pull of the tide. In, out, in, out.
Todd is an in.
The fluorescent lighting buzzes and flickers overhead as he's led down the hallway, casting the walls with a sickly yellow glow. The tile is green and white, a standard checkerboard pattern, and he counts each square as he walks, trying to focus on anything except the mundane chattering of the nurses on either side of him- each holding one of his arms.
It's degrading, he thinks, having to be escorted like a child. Crazy or not.
They stop in front of room 12 and the nurse on his right- Cyndi? Sally, maybe?- fumbles around in the pocket of her scrubs to find her set of keys. The paint on the door is chipped and faded and the brass number is crooked and rusted and Todd is quite put off by the whole thing.
He says nothing as they usher him inside and he ducks his head to avoid the gaze of the other boy in the room. His new roommate, presumably.
The nurse on his left- the heavy set one with tan skin and a kind smile that makes Todd think she might not be all that bad- pats his arm and reassures him that they're going to take good care of him and that everything is going to be okay. Todd doesn't believe her but he nods anyway, trying to be polite.
He sets his things down on his bed and before he can even turn around, the door has been shut and he's been left alone with the boy whose curious gaze is following his every move.
Todd clears his throat as he toes the ground beneath his feet with the tip of his shoe. He just stands there in silence as he watches the boy- sprawled out across his bed with a dog-eared paperback resting on his chest- watch him. It takes him a moment before he eventually clears his throat as well, hauling himself into a sitting position. "I'm Neil," he says, extending his hand with a smile. "Neil Perry."
Todd screws his face up in the best imitation that he can as he takes Neil's outstretched hand. "I'm Todd Anderson."
September 8, 1959 12:47 PM
"So what'd you do?"
Todd pauses in the middle of a bite of his lunch and lifts his gaze to meet Neil's. They've known each other for only a few hours and have spoken maybe ten or twelve words to each other and now Neil is sitting across from him with a friendly, crooked smile and asking him the most personal question he can imagine.
As if the answer wasn't already obvious.
"Uh," he drawls as he sets his fork down, pulling down the sleeves of his sweater to conceal the matching bandages that run up the length of each of his forearms. "I…" he trails off helplessly, unable to speak the words.
Neil nods as he picks up his cup- filled to the brim with skeptical looking purple juice that Todd is glad he skipped out on- and takes a sip, swilling the liquid around his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down. "Me too."
Todd makes a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement and picks up his fork again, pushing bits and pieces of overcooked macaroni around his plate.
"Except I shot myself," Neil continues. He says it simply, blunty. Like he's just making some offhand, flippant comment and Todd can't understand his calm, collected demeanor because the weight of his confession makes Todd's stomach clench.
"O-Oh," he says as he continues to play with the uneaten food.
Neil is silent for a moment before he downs the rest of his glass of juice and points his finger in the direction of Todd's plate. "Are you going to finish that?"
Todd passes it over without another word.
September 8, 1959 6:00 PM
There's a scar that stretches along the planes of Neil's chest and up to his shoulder- ugly and raw and angry looking. Todd can tell it's fairly fresh because the skin is still a dark red and has yet to start to fade and he tries not to stare as he watches Neil change- tugging their standard issue white tee-shirt over his head.
He stares anyway, though, and when Neil catches him, he offers a sheepish smile. "My hand shook," he explains. "I missed my mark."
Todd absentmindedly fingers the edge of his bandages. "Yeah. Me too."
September 12, 1959
Group therapy makes him nervous so Todd says nothing. Instead, he just listens and watches, observing the faces of the patients around him.
Some are blank and expressionless. Some look angry. Some look sad. And then there's Neil- Neil who just looks curious. His gaze wanders back and forth from speaker to speaker and his arms are resting against his knees as he leans forward like he's hanging on every word.
There are times when Neil unsettles him because, as Todd has come to notice, Neil picks up on everything. It's silly, he knows, but sometimes when they're alone in their room at night, squeezing in some time to read before the lights go out, Todd can feel's eyes on him and it makes him nervous. Makes him feel like Neil is looking right into his soul and that he's able to see every secret and every one of his thoughts.
And then there are times, like these, where Neil just keeps him calm. Neil is something solid to focus on and Neil makes him comfortable and if he can just keep his attention on Neil, he can forget, momentarily, exactly what they're doing.
September 15, 1959
The bandages are gone now, exposing the crisscrossed and jagged lines that mar pale skin.
They're everywhere. Some are straight and some are curved, some are old and some are new and they all blend and flow together- creating the most intricate and delicate of mazes.
There's so many of them; too many for Neil to count but that doesn't stop him from staring at them anyway. They fascinate him, as ugly and painful as they may be. They intrigue him. They bring up questions and arouse curiosity, making him wonder about the story behind each and every one.
He knows that Todd can see him but he doesn't look away and, for once, Todd doesn't turn away.
Instead, he flattens his arm against his bed and just continues to read and that one simple and intimate gesture makes Neil feel like he's cracked a lock somewhere inside of Todd. They're making progress. They're no longer just roommates with a shared, sad story but they're not quite friends- not yet.
September 25, 1959
Todd is crying in his sleep. Or maybe he's crying himself to sleep- Neil can't really tell.
This isn't the first time this has happened. He's woken up to the sound of Todd's sobs one too many time for his liking and he just wants it to stop.
So he slides out of bed and pads barefoot across the floor, crawling in next to the trembling frame of his roommate. Todd startles and jerks awake, kicking Neil in the shin in the process but Neil doesn't recoil.
He winds his arms around Todd and rests his chin on the top of his head, mumbling shush and its okay, Todd, its okay and eventually, Todd stills and stops thrashing and his cheek settles on Neil's chest- right above the beat of his heart. His cheek is still wet and it cold and it makes Neil shudder a little, though he's thankful that the tears have stopped.
He nuzzles his nose against the crown of Todd's head, eliciting a soft sigh in response.
"G'night, Neil," he mumbles, already half asleep.
Neil just smiles.
October 8, 1959
Todd speaks at group for the very first time.
His speech is soft and he says nothing but a handful of words- I'm Todd Anderson and I'm uh, suicidal- but Neil couldn't be more proud of him.
He's never heard Todd admit that before and he knows what a challenge that must have been for him. Neil smiles at him encouragingly and pats him on the back, letting his hand linger for a moment longer than necessary.
Todd doesn't seem to mind and Neil realizes this must be a day for making progress- first with a confession and now with a friendship.
October 29, 1959
"Why'd you do it?"
Todd cringes. It's not that the question is unexpected because Neil has no boundaries and he knew he'd get around to asking it eventually. He's just not quite sure he's ready to answer it.
He closes his book and sets it off to the side, rolling over onto his stomach. Todd tucks his pillow under his chin and fingers the edge as he tries to think of what to say. "It's… there were a lot of reasons."
Neil mimics his position and cocks his head just slightly in curiosity. "Which were?"
Todd licks his lips. "I-I'm not ready to talk about them."
Neil's face falls for a fraction of a second but he collects himself rather quickly and just nods. "I understand." He then pauses. "Are you ever going to be ready?"
Todd hesitates. He's told things to his doctor- certainly not everything, though- and he's mentioned things in group but discussing this with Neil seems different. More intimate, somehow. They're friends now and he trusts Neil and he cares for Neil and he knows they shouldn't have any problems sharing their secrets because, after all, their secrets are all the same.
So he just nods and says, eventually.
November 27, 1959 1:38 PM
"It started when I was eight," Todd brings up suddenly, causing Neil's head to whip around in surprise.
"What did?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.
"The uh…" Todd pauses to clear his throat. "The reasons."
Neil just stares at him for a moment, blinks, and then pulls his swing to a halt. He tucks his hands into his pockets and rubs them together as he tries to warm them up while he waits for Todd to gather his thoughts.
He'd suggest moving inside, as most of the patients have already done, because it's cold and the sky is gray and it looks like it's going to snow but he doesn't want to interrupt Todd. Not now when he's finally ready to talk.
Todd exhales shakily and kicks at the icy ground beneath his feet. "That's when I remember them starting, anyway." His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips before he continues.
"All my life, all I'd ever heard as that I wasn't good enough. I wasn't my brother. I wasn't Jeffery," Todd sneers, giving a small shake of his head. "My parents were always fighting. If not with each other, then they were fighting at me. I got put in the middle a lot and of course, everything was always my fault. I ruined their life or I was ruining the family."
Neil's jaw clenches but he says nothing, nodding at Todd in a gesture of encouragement for him to move on.
"I guess after awhile, I just started to believe that. I mean, I never fit in with anyone and no one seemed to like me so after awhile, I just didn't want to get out of bed or even try to do anything anymore. Nothing would be good enough anyway, you know?" Todd swallows thickly.
"They tended to get… a little out of hand. Abuse and stuff. There was this one time…" He falls silent for a moment and just shakes his head and lowers his voice to the level of a whisper. "That's the first time I thought about suicide."
Neil suddenly feels a little sick- angered and hurt over the thought of someone so young and innocent being forced to feel like they had to end their life. He can't decide whether he wants to punch something or cry or offer Todd a hug so he just doesn't do anything but go back to swinging- breaking the silence with a soft squeaking sound as the chains rub across the frame.
"I tried it a couple of times when I was younger. Nothing I did was ever thought out well enough to actually work," Todd says, closing his eyes as memories begin to invade his head.
There are memories of the slide of the outside of a pill bottle as it brushed against his fingers and the vile sensation of throwing up and being curled up against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. There are memories of rope burn around his neck and his hands and the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks when the knot began to slip. There are memories of razor blades and blood and a sharp, stinging pain across the skin of his wrist.
"God," he chuckles bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. "I couldn't even do that correctly."
Shaking his head, Todd just continues. "I managed to kind of… overcome it for awhile. I made some friends and I was good at school and it became easier to ignore. And then, one day, I just woke up and it was back. Just this… urge I couldn't get away from. I tried to fight it for as long as I could but it just got worse and worse until…" he just trails off and rolls his sleeve up, exposing the ruined skin Neil has come to know so well.
"Yeah," he says, because he's not quite sure what else he can say.
They sit there for a minutes in silence, breath mingling as white clouds in front of their faces, before Todd turns to Neil and screws up a small smile. "Wanna head in before we get frostbite?"
"Yeah," he repeats, hoping he doesn't sound too eager.
November 27, 1959 8:39 PM
"Control."
Todd turns around a little and lifts his head to stare up at Neil. "What about control?"
Neil continues to stare up at the ceiling, absentmindedly tracing random patterns into Todd's side with the tip of his index finger. "That's my reason."
When what Neil is saying clicks, Todd just nods and gets settled on the bed to listen to what he has to say.
"My parents had my whole life planned out for me, you know? Prep school, college, medical school. I never had a say. Not ever." He brings his free hand up to rub at his eyes. "I didn't want any of it. I was going to become a doctor and make my family proud and get married," he scoffs. "Ugh. Married," he repeats, like it's some kind of dirty word.
Suddenly curious, Todd interrupts him. "You don't want to get married?"
Neil stares at him for a moment before he starts to laugh, unable to help himself. "No. I'm not… you know, interested."
Todd's eyes grow comically wide as the weight of what Neil is saying sinks in. "You… you're…?"
Neil just nods. "Yeah."
Todd purses his lips in thought, causing Neil to raise an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
"No," Todd bursts out, a little louder than he had intended it to. The tips of his cheeks turn pink as he shakes his head. "No. It's… its okay. Me too."
Neil smiles as he brushes his lips across the surface of Todd's forehead. "Could we be any more screwed up?"
There's a beat of silence that passes before Todd just shakes his head. "I don't think so."
December 24, 1959
It's snowing. Hard. The ground outside the window is coated in white and the sky is shrouded in menacing looking gray clouds but inside, it's warm and cozy and the air smells a little like pine and cinnamon.
Todd curls into Neil a little more, unintentionally getting his foot twisted up in the scratchy wool blanket they're sharing. He hardly even notices it, though, because Neil's eyes are closed and there's a peaceful smile on his face and he's humming under his breath- a familiar carol that Todd has long since forgotten the name of.
"I've never had a Christmas like this," he voices as he lets his eyes flutter shut.
Neil's chest shakes as he chuckles. "One where you're stuck in an institution?"
Todd utters an exasperated huff. "No." He hesitates for a moment. "A happy one."
"You're happy?" Neil asks as he trails his lips down the side of Todd's face. He lingers at the corner of his mouth and gently nuzzles his nose against his cheek.
Todd just hums in conformation and turns his head slightly- just enough for his lips to brush against Neil's.
Caught off guard, Neil inhales sharply and freezes and Todd starts to panic but then Neil slowly threads his fingers through Todd's hair and he can breathe again- ca actually feel the pressure in his chest start to deflate. He feels open and sort of free and for once, he's not afraid of it. Instead, he embraces it.
The kiss isn't much of a kiss at all. It's clumsy and kind of awkward and is over much too quickly but that's not what's important. What's important is what it manages to do.
It crumbles walls and cracks foundations and scratches away at things like 'suicidal' and 'manic depressive' and 'disturbed' to find what's underneath. Words like those don't exist here, not in this space between them, because they're normal here. They're just people- capable of thoughts and feelings that they're free and able to express. They're happy and because of that, nothing else really matters.
Neil smiles at him and Todd smiles back and for the first time in a long time, it's something genuine.
January 1, 1959
Todd settles his head back against Neil's shoulder and he yawns, nuzzling his face into the space between Neil's neck and his chin. "Happy new year," he mumbles sleepily, almost unheard over the sound of the TV and the chiming clock and the bustle and commotion behind them.
Neil chuckles as he presses a kiss to the side of Todd's head, right beneath his hairline. "Are you falling asleep on me?" he teases as he gently pokes him in the side with the tip of his index finger.
Todd just grumbles something in response.
"I don't even get a kiss?" Neil whines, pushing his lips out into a pout when he sees Todd crack an eye open.
Todd turns and smacks their lips together for all of a second before his head lolls forward and his eyes droop shut once more. Laughing, Neil hauls him to his feet and slides one of Todd's arms around his shoulders, dragging him back to their room.
He tucks him into bed- the one that they now share- and curls up beneath the blankets, opening his arms to let Todd settle into them as they close around his waist. He watches him sleep - all peaceful and tranquil- and he watches until his own eyelids begin to grow heavy.
Neil sighs and shuts them, mumbling a "happy new year, Todd" into the dark.
A new year, and a happy one at that, is exactly what they need.
January 30, 1959
"Neil."
Neil just groans in response, too far gone for words, and continues to rut his hips against Todd's in frantic, messy and sporadic movements.
Todd's nimble fingers tug at his hair and his mouth parts against Neil's and Neil swallows back the moan he breathes out into the open space. He claws at Todd and pulls him closer- touching him everywhere and anywhere he can through the fabric of their heavy pajamas.
They have to hurry because bed checks are soon and they're in no position to get caught and Neil knows this but he wants to draw it out as long as he can. Wants to revel in the feeling of Todd's hands and his lips and the way that their bodies just sort of curve together perfectly, sort of like they were made for each other. It's a feeling he could get used to, he thinks.
Todd's breathing becomes ragged and turns into heavy, strangled pants so Neil speeds up. He pulls Todd flush up against him, hard enough to make him worry about whether or not his fingers are going to leave bruises along his hips, and he hopes they won't, and bites down on the sliver of sensitive skin beneath Todd's earlobe.
Todd cries out quietly, his nails dig into Neil's back and his head falls back against the pillow and the look on his face is enough to push Neil tumbling over the edge not even a moment later.
He exhales sharply and clamps his teeth down around the edge of the pillow to stifle the groan that escapes him as the world around him explodes into color and blinding white light- blurring his vision and causing his frame to tremble.
Neil collapses down onto the bed with a content sigh, sweaty and spent, and his heart begins to flutter when Todd turns his head to smile at him- all dimples and white teeth and soft pink lips that are slick and shiny with spit.
And yeah, Neil decides, this is definitely something that he could get used to.
February 12, 1959 2:54 PM
"Do you still think about it?"
"No," Todd says automatically. His answer comes without hesitation or doubt or without him having to even think it over and that surprises him a little; makes him sink down in his seat, licking his licks uncomfortably.
The doctor across from him raises an eyebrow- arching it up over the frame of his coke-bottle glasses. "Really?"
Todd squirms under the scrutiny of his gaze. "Y-Yeah," he stutters. "I… I haven't thought about it in awhile. Since December, I think," he tells him, thinking back to Christmas- Christmas and the feeling of Neil's lips on his and the sensation of blinding, true happiness that had once been so unfamiliar.
He receives a nod in response. "And why do you think that is?"
"I…" Todd falters, unable to come up with the right words. I'm happy? I have a friend? I have a lover? I'm in love?
"I'm in a better place," he finally says. "I… I feel like there is something out there worth living for." He pauses for a beat and then shakes his head. "No. I know there is."
February 12, 1959 3:02 PM
"I love you."
Todd's sudden outburst causes Neil's head to snap up in alarm, nearly tumbling off the bed in the process. He looks him over- breathing heavily and slouched against the doorway with one hand resting on his side like he's warding off a cramp- and just quirks an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"
Todd stares at him blankly. And then he groans. "I love you!" he all but shouts, jumping slightly as the sound of his voice echoes against the walls.
"Yeah," Neil drawls. "I know that," he says; simply and slowly and sort of like he's talking to a child. "I love you too."
March 8, 1959
The room is empty. The beds are made and the covers lay neat and tidy. All belongings are packed and the walls are clear again- vacant of pinned up pictures and drawings and snippets of poetry scrawled by an untidy hand.
Todd tears his gaze away from the window and hoists the strap of his bag over his shoulder. His six months are up and it's finally time for him to go home- a real home. Not to a house that lives under the guise of perfection and a family that functions more like inhabitants of a hotel but a home.
Neil, released two weeks before, is waiting in the doorway and, as usual, is looking every bit impatient. His eyes, however, are shining with joy and love and when Todd finally nods, signaling that he's ready to go, there's a glimmer of relief there too.
He reaches over and takes his free hand as he leads him out the door, tucking their intertwined fingers into the pocket of his coat. Todd listens intently as he chatters on, a little nervously, maybe- rambling about the apartment he had managed to secure at the last minute and how it's not much but he hopes Todd will like it anyway because it was really, really, the best he could do.
Todd reassures him that he's sure that its fine and that it's going to be perfect because, Neil, it's our house. How could it not be perfect?
And it might not be something that's perfect in the eyes of anyone else but then again, neither are they.
They're the farthest thing from what's supposed to be perfect but they're perfect in their own way. Perfect for each other.
They have broken and jagged edges, too sharp for anyone else, that fit together like off kilter pieces of a puzzle. They have problems and issues and everyday might be a constant struggle but that doesn't mean that they aren't going to try- try to make it past the obstacles and challenges and try to be there to pick each other up when one of them stumbles and falls.
It's hard but at the same time, it's easy and in a way, it's just like breathing. All they have to do is keep it up.