Chapter Text
Todd stared blankly through the car window. His insides twisted at the thought of another visit at home. Another weekend listening to his parents swooning over Jeffrey and reminding Todd how he would never compare to his older brother. He just hoped it would be over soon, but he knew his parents would make sure to make his time at home seem like eternity. There was no chance of hiding in his bedroom for the whole stay; no, they would make him sit with them all the time and listen to them rambling about him.
It’s just one weekend, Todd. You can get through this.
He leaned his forehead on the glass and observed the blurry world outside. At least, he can enjoy the view on his way to literal hell on Earth.
Neil watched the car pull out from the school’s driveway. He caught a glimpse of Todd’s sad, resigned face. He shot his friend a reassuring smile, hoping it would calm Todd at least a little bit. Neil knew how messed up Todd’s parents were, he’d experienced Todd crying and panicking almost every time they’d called or brought Todd home to visit. He held his roommate so many times, trying to break him through his attacks, silently cursing the Andersons for hurting this wonderful human being. How would you ever do things like they’d done to a person like Todd? He was one of the purest, kindest, and most generous people Neil had ever known, and above all that also a gifted poet. But his parents made minimizing Todd their life goal. Todd’s whole life was marked by them repeating their son, how much of a disappointment he is, how he’d never be good enough, how he’d never be like Jeffrey. They successfully made Todd doubt his self-worth every single day and barricade himself from the world. This beautiful soul was hidden under the facade of a shy, extremely quiet boy, who couldn’t stutter out a single word to strangers. It took Neil and the other Poets so much effort to break Todd’s shell and help him realize how great he is. He still didn’t believe it, but he seemed more comfortable around his friends, and Neil could only hope Todd would finally see how much he is loved by them. His newfound family.
Every visit at home was horrible, but this one had to be the worst of them all. Todd looked at his own reflection in the mirror: puffy, tear-stained cheeks, red eyes, swollen lips, and chin, still trembling. Why did his life have to be like this, why did they hate him so much? What did he ever do to them? The only thing he ever wanted from his family was to love him, to care for him, was it too much to ask for? What did he do to deserve all of this?
It was a few minutes past midnight, and Todd spent the last couple of hours sitting in the living room, listening to another rant about him. Jeffrey also came back home, and that made their parents even more unbearable. The whole dinner they only acknowledged his older brother, which was hurtful and relieving at the same time. Jeff told them stories about Harvard, his internship, the law committee he was a part of, his girlfriend, basically everything their parents could be proud of. He tried to engage Todd in the conversation, asking him questions about Welton, but the Andersons cut him off every time, turning the attention back on Jeffrey. Todd looked at his brother and shook his head slightly, only for Jeff to see. He understood what Todd meant, and sent him a sad smile. If there was one person that truly cared for Todd in this family, it was Jeffrey. He knew that his parents favored him over Todd, he even tried to talk to them about this, but to no avail. They were so caught up in awe of their firstborn, that they completely disregarded Todd’s feelings. In Jeffrey’s eyes, Todd was one of the most brilliant people in the world. He was smart, witty, funny, and extremely, annoyingly sweet. He never complained, always telling Jeff that ‘he’s fine’, ‘it’s okay, really’, ‘that’s the way they are’. Jeffrey couldn’t believe that his parents don’t see all the great things about Todd; instead, they focused on his grades not being as high as Jeffrey’s, on his quietness, on the fact that he never really had friends besides Jeffrey, or on his stutter. They paid attention only to the bad things, that weren’t even necessarily Todd’s fault. Truth be told, Jeffrey was sure that Todd’s shyness and anxiety were caused by his parents. When they were both kids, Todd was very outgoing; he never shut up his mouth. He had no problem with meeting other children and playing with them. It all started with those small things their parents noticed: that Jeffrey has more friends, that Jeffrey learns faster, hell, even that Jeffrey started crawling at a younger age than Todd. Todd started closing himself from others, creating a barrier to protect himself from getting hurt. Still, his parents always found a way to break through his walls and cut the wounds deeper and deeper.
It was after dinner when things got so bad. They all went to the living room, the Andersons still spilling all their love on Jeffrey. Todd sat silently on the couch, wishing for this day to be over, when he heard his father addressing him.
“I don’t know what we did wrong with you, Todd. How did you turn out so unlike Jeffrey?”
Todd didn’t respond to this, holding back tears as his father’s knife dug deeper. He ranted about how Todd’s grades were slipping, how he would never get into Harvard with those scores, he would never be a valedictorian, how he can’t form a single sentence without hesitating and stuttering, how he’s as quiet as a church mouse, how he never appreciates what his parents do for him, how his hobbies are so femenine, how people in town had been calling his son a fag, because he’d never had a girlfriend, even if he’s only eighteen. Todd listened to all of this, cracks slowly appearing in a dam in his heart. His chest tightened with every new word his parents spoke, breath hitching, cheeks getting hot. He heard Jeffrey’s blurred voice, like through a curtain that was his approaching panic attack, asking their parents to stop, but they kept going. And Todd sat through all of that, desperately trying to stop his breathing and not feel like he’s dying, because his attacks were other things that his parents mocked.
When they were finally finished, they decided that it’s time to sleep. They left the room wishing their two sons goodnight, just like nothing had happened. Jeffrey squeezed Todd’s shoulder before leaving, and whispered in his ear:
“I’ll be in my bedroom, if you need me”.
Todd nodded and stayed on the couch for a while before climbing up the stairs to his room. He shut the door silently, and fell to the ground, letting the tears stream down his already red cheeks. He sobbed and sobbed, wishing to disappear, to never be born, wishing to be dead. He knew his parents didn’t do this on purpose; they didn’t see anything bad in constantly insulting their son. They thought they’re doing this for Todd’s good, so he could push himself to greatness. If they keep comparing him to Jeffrey and point out all of his flaws, he would try and try and finally become like their eldest son. Todd knew this, but it still stung. Why couldn't they accept him just the way he is? Why do they want him to become second Jeffrey? Is he not good enough?
He was so tired, so exhausted from trying to impress them, of trying to get them to love him. The same thought circled around his mind: I’m stupid, I’m worthless, I’ll never be good enough, I’ll never be like Jeffrey. They’ll never love me, I don’t deserve to be loved, I don’t deserve anything good in this life, I’ll always be a disappointment, I-
He could feel his second panic attack approaching, even worse than the last one. He didn’t have strength for that, for dealing with those attacks, with his parents, with his life…
Without thinking, he stood up from the floor and quietly got to his desk. He looked at the notebook laying on the smooth surface, the inside filled with his own words. He’d let Neil and the other Poets read some of them, and they were all infatuated with his writing. They always complimented him and his mind, the way poetry flew so easily through his pen. But now, he felt embarrassed that he showed them to anyone, they were so worthless, just like him. He looked up to see a photograph on the wall, taken on the school grounds. It was a picture of him and the Poets, at the beginning of the new school year. Neil was in the center, of course, grinning widely like he always did. Todd stood beside him, with a shy smile on his face, almost hiding under the steady shoulder of his best friend. Next to Todd was Charlie, looking so smug while ruffling Todd’s hair. On Neil’s left side was Knox, waving to the person taking the picture, Mr. Keating. On the ground, crouching, there were Meeks and Pitts, both showing peace signs with their fingers. And Cameron stood next to Charlie, the only one standing straight, but still smiling cheerfully. Todd remembered that day so well. The amount of happiness and love he felt, the warmth of being surrounded by his friends, people who cared for him and saw the real him. The memory of that moment brings so much pain. What would he do to just go back to that sunny September afternoon? What would he do to feel like that again? To stop feeling like an empty shell of a human, stop feeling like there are arms on his neck choking him and dragging him underwater. What would he do to want to live again?
With tears streaming down his cheeks, he opened the notebook and wrote something on the last page. His friends needed to know why he did this. They’d probably hate him even more after what he'd done, but he needed to say all that’s on his heart. He wrote with a trembling hand, his breathing uneven, eyes blurry with water and panic. When he was finished, he slammed the notebook shut and scribbled a quick note to Jeffrey:
“Please, give this notebook to my roommate, Neil Perry. He would know what to do with it.
I love you, and I’m sorry.
–Todd”
He left the note on the notebook, and as quietly as he could he tiptoed to the bathroom. Inside, he was already full on panicking, his heart beating in his chest like it was about to escape from behind his ribs. He was sobbing and shaking on the cold bathroom floor. He tried to calm down using the breathing exercises that usually helped him during attacks, but this time nothing seemed to bring him comfort. He wanted it to be over, but with every passing second he felt worse and worse. He thought of things his friends did when Todd had a panic attack in school. The reminder of his friends, however, made the pain in Todd’s heart even more unbearable. He missed them like never before, he wished they could take him into a tight embrace, but instead he focused on things he could see, hear or feel. A sink, a fly buzzing in the air, chilly tiles under his thighs. Eventually, his breathing slowered and he started regaining his senses. His attack was over, but he still felt that darkness surrounding him, filling him to the core. He was drowning slowly with no strength to reach out to the shore. He knew what he had to do next. There was no other choice. No other future for him.
He stood up and walked over to the sink. He reached the cabinet where all the medications were kept.
“I’m worrying about him, Charlie. He was supposed to call three hours ago.”
“Don’t sweat over it too much, Neil. His parents probably made him sit with them the whole evening and he eventually went to sleep.”
Charlie was laying on Todd’s bed, surprisingly, while Neil paced his and Todd’s room. It was long after lights out, and all the boys were supposed to be in their beds, sleeping peacefully. But the Poets were not even close to sleeping, especially Neil. Todd always called when he visited his parents; he could be late half an hour, but never three. Neil had a bad feeling, and Charlie telling him to stop being so nervous didn’t help. He knew how Todd’s parents were and how it affected his friend, so Todd’s silence made him worry a lot. All the Poets were stressed too, but they tried to remain cool, because they didn’t know how long Neil would keep it together. Charlie told Neil to relax, but on the inside, he was losing his shit. He also knew that after they finally broke his shell, it was unlike Todd to not give a sign of life. They were all scared for their friend, even if they didn’t show it. They would call him themselves if they could, but they didn’t have his home phone number or address to go and pick him up. Neil considered asking Mr. Keating to check on Todd, but their teacher also didn’t know where Todd lived, and Neil was sure Mr. Nolan would never give Mr. Keating the information of the student’s address, especially for a reason like this. The school’s administration would never believe that the Andersons treated their son badly.
So all they could do was wait.
“Neil, sit down, I’m sure even Hager can hear you through his monstrous snoring.”
Neil kept pacing for a little while, before he sat on the edge of his own bed, his knee bouncing at the speed of light.
“Look, Neil,” Charlie sat up and mirrored Neil’s posture. “I know you’re worried, I’m too, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now. I’m sure Todd will call tomorrow and explain everything. Now, go to sleep. You had an eventful day.”
It was Saturday, one of their usual days to hold Dead Poets meetings. They would postpone if one of the poets was absent, but today they decided to meet up nevertheless. It was so weird without Todd, so they all read poems that reminded them of their own poet. Lots of Whitman was presented, some of Thoreau, Wilde, Ginsberg, and their personal favorite, ‘Sweaty-Toothed Madman’ by one and only Todd Anderson. It was not the same, but they could feel at least a little bit of Todd with them. They would look up to his usual spot between Neil and Charlie and swear that, for just a moment, he was there with them. Then they all came back to wait for his call that never came.
Neil resisted going to sleep, insisting on waiting for any news on Todd's situation, but eventually gave in when he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He knew that the earliest he’d get any message would be in the morning, so he could use at least a few hours of sleep.
Charlie debated if he should stay with Neil for the night, but his friend seemed to be deep in his sleep, free of any worry, so there was no need for Charlie to be there. He returned to his room and quietly laid on his bed, ignoring Cameron’s sleepy groan. He shut his eyes, telling himself that some sleep wouldn’t hurt him either.
Todd's hands were shaking when they reached a small, orange bottle containing his mother’s sleeping pills. He almost slipped all of them into the sink. His whole body shivered, but inside he felt freezingly hollow; he felt nothing. The one and only thought filled his mind.
I will be free.
Neil was tossing and turning around in his sleep. Something was still bothering him, even in his dream. He had this weird nightmare that he was chasing something desperately until he realized that the thing he was looking for was already gone.
But it was just a dream.
Todd once again sat on a cold floor of the bathroom, weirdly sad that this would be the place he was going to die in. He’d always imagined himself passing away of old age in a small cottage, surrounded by his loved ones. But, apparently, he didn’t deserve it. All he deserved was to die at the ungraceful age of eighteen, between the sink and the toilet.
He thought of his life, his short life that was filled with so much pain and hurt, but he didn’t want to focus on the bad memories. If he was really going to die, he wanted to remember all the good times. Days he spent playing with Jeff on a local playground. Reading poetry with his grandma. Beating his grandpa at chess. Feeding ducks in the park. Riding on his bike through the town. And finally, going to Welton and meeting his friends. His Poets. His true family.
And during the last seconds of his brain’s consciousness, he thought of this group of six misfits whom he loved so much.
Meeks and Pitts had slept for a good two hours, but it would be an overstatement to say that their sleep was peaceful. Meeks had woken up at least five times, dripping in sweat, and Pitts, just like Neil, would throw himself on the bed with growing force. Knox’s sleep was a little bit calmer, but he mumbled something that sounded very much like „Todd…”. Cameron slept rather peacefully, but even in his slumber he could feel that something was not right.
Jeffrey found him three hours later, waking up to use the bathroom. He opened the door to reveal his little brother sprawled across the floor. He ran to him, sobbing, screaming from the top of his lungs. He held Todd’s pale, lifeless body, covered in the boy’s own vomit, in his arms, wishing it was him instead.
Charlie couldn’t sleep. It was a few minutes after 3 am, and he couldn’t manage to close his eyes even for a second. His stomach was twisted in this weird unease that kept him awake. He hoped that Todd would call them early in the morning so he could get a proper sleep throughout the day.
He was about to try again to at least nap for a while, when he heard a weird commotion in the corridor. He got up and opened the door a little. He peeked through just to see Dr. Hager practically running down the hallway. Charlie tiptoed after him, hiding once in a while in some corner. Finally, Dr. Hager stopped and knocked on the door in front of him. Charlie observed him from behind the staircase. The door opened after a few seconds and revealed confused Mr. Nolan in his pajamas and robe.
„What’s the matter?” He asked, his voice unnaturally quiet.
„I just got off the phone. It’s better we get inside.”
Dr. Hager was visibly shaken, and it was weird seeing him like this. Mr. Nolan also seemed to notice the teacher’s state and let him in with a concerned look on his face. After the door closed behind them, Charlie sprinted in their direction, slamming his ear to the wooden surface. He didn’t even know why he did that, that could mean anything, but he had a really bad feeling. He had to find out what all the fuss was about.
„I got the call a few minutes ago. It was the Andersons.”
Charlie’s ears got even closer to the door. His heart started being faster, and his breath hitched in his chest.
„The Andersons?” Mr. Nolan was even more confused. “What did they call for, they brought the boy home for the weekend, didn’t they?”
„Yes, they did. They called to inform that the boy, their son, he…”
„Yes?”
„His brother found him. He was taken to the hospital, but it was already a few hours too late. He didn’t make it.”
Charlie felt like he sunk to the deepest depths of the ocean. His knees became weak and he could feel tears building up in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to scream; this couldn’t be true, this is all a huge misunderstanding, no, it couldn’t happen. Todd… oh my God, Todd, no… he wouldn’t do it… he couldn’t… he…
He almost didn’t hear the next words exchanged behind the closed door.
„My God, how did this happen?”
„He overdosed on sleeping pills. His parents are convinced he mistook them for painkillers.”
Bullshit, Charlie thought. Todd wasn’t this stupid. He knew damn well those were sleeping pills.
“Did the Andersons say anything else?”
„They said they will call again to inform on the date of the funeral. But, Headmaster, how will we tell the students?”
„We will hold an assembly in the morning,” Mr. Nolan said after a moment of silence. „Of course, after that we will start the investigation to…”
Charlie didn’t hear his next words because he was already running down the hall, as fast as he could while tiptoeing. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he had to use all of his strength to not break out in a sob in the middle of the hallway. He couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be possible. Todd overdosed? He killed himself? Their Todd, their beautiful, wonderful soul, was gone? And they didn’t do anything to stop him, to help him? They would never see him again, not in this life? How was Charlie supposed to carry on without his friend? How could he continue to live normally, when his best friend committed suicide? How could he accept it? Through all those questions haunting his confused mind, a new, equally chilling thought appeared: he will have to tell the Poets. Oh my God, he will have to tell Neil. No, this will absolutely break him. He can’t know this, he won’t survive this.
He had to get out, he couldn’t tell them just now, not in this state. He stumbled on his feet, almost tripping on the staircase. He didn’t even realize when he reached the luggage room, his mind was so clouded, but his body seemed to work like it was programmed. Once he shut the door behind him, he started screaming. He didn’t care anymore if someone could hear him, he just burst out into a mix of yelling, howling and crying. Then, he started laughing; he chuckled through the tears. It was almost ironic; the thing that brought all of them the most happiness these last few months, had been drowning all this time, and neither of them noticed. Sure, they knew about Todd’s relationship with his parents, his anxiety, and that he wasn’t the most gleeful person in the world, but they would never even think he would harm himself in any way. How bad it must’ve been if he felt killing himself is his only solution? How truly depressed he must’ve been? And why didn't we notice anything, how couldn’t we notice anything, how…
When the sun started setting, Charlie found the last bits of his strength and went back to the dormitories. He got Knox, Meeks and Pitts outside and told them what he had heard. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel like telling Cameron right now. He watched his friends’ faces break, he saw their hearts shattering like his own through their eyes. He turned his gaze away, not being able to look at the tears streaming down their faces. They stood there for a while, in complete silence, not being able to move, until all of their eyes darted to the door of Neil and Todd’s room. Or now, only Neil’s room. Neither of the boys seemed eager to open the door, all knowing that it had to be Charlie to tell the news. So, he stepped forward and gently opened the door. Neil was sleeping in his bed, looking peaceful, not a slight of worry written on his face. Charlie got closer and noticed something in Neil’s hands. It was Todd’s sweater; the familiar, navy blue material, the sight of which always made Charlie so happy; now, it made him nauseous.
What he was about to do seemed even harder now.
„Neil… Neil…” he shook the brunette by his shoulder.
Neil shifted in his bed, but started to turn away when he saw Charlie, his mind not registering anything besides how tired he was.
„Oh, Charlie…”
„Neil.”
Neil opened his eyes wider at the serious sound of Charlie’s voice. He sat up, expression on his face changing from confused to worried as he looked between Charlie’s tear-stained cheeks, and the other Poets standing in the doorway, faces similar to Charlie’s.
„Charlie, what–„
„Todd’s dead.”