Disclaimer: As most of us know, I do not own Dead Poets Society anything.
A/N: I have tried this kind of FanFiction before, so please review. I will appreciate constructive criticism, but don't be too harsh. :P
Todd sighed, looking down into the swirling toilet bowl, watching the blue tablets swirl and disappear. Yet another aspect of his life down the toilet. Stubbornly reassuring himself he didn't need pills to make himself happy, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and crushed the small blue plastic bottle beneath the heel of his unpolished, scuffed shoe. Triumphantly, he grinned to himself and swaggered back into his room positioning himself on the bed in the most carefree position he could imagine; leaning back on his pillow with both hands behind his head, his legs crossed, a smug look curling uncomfortably into his gloomy features. He imagined he looked pretty normal, maybe even pretty cool. Sarcastic laughter started quietly, growing into a cruel cackle, echoing off the faded, cracked walls of his melancholic mind. Can you imagine? Todd-cool. The words were so clashing and pathetic. Todd couldn't believe himself. How could he possibly even begin forming thoughts along the lines that he could be anything but a pathetic parasite feeding off people as wonderful as Neil? He grabbed his pillow and curled into a fetal position. Tears welling in his eyes, he let out a small sob, stifled by his pillow. Desperately gasping in the detergent and hair grease air, he sobbed and hoped no one would see him like this.