I wish he wouldn't.
He's tortured and trapped in his own body. For the past month, it seemed he was never in sight of the dinner table; I asked him why he's skipping meals and he shurgged it off with a mysterious grin: "Chemistry exams."
Not even for a minute did I believe he was studying. There's no reason for me to believe it, nor is it logical that he really study. If his words sound like they do, he's serious. No more school. No more books. Just a passion in his heart and hunger in his eye.
His father let him get his books and clothes. That's why he paces before me, almost begging to be saved. He whispers, "Todd... tell Charlie and the others goodbye for me."
I laugh loudly. "Goodbye? It's not time for goodbye, we'll see you again."
Neil wraps those caramel-colored fingers around the handle of his suitcase and encloses me into a hug. Those mystical eyes brim with tears and he mutters something into my ear.
He didn't lie. It honestly was the last time we'd see him. Neil left his silly little Midsummer Night's Dream transcript on his desk, all his lines underlined. I picked it up after he had left the room.
To this day, I can't believe he pulled the trigger.
"If we shadows have offended, Think but this,—and all is mended,— That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend; If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call: So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends."