Work Text:
Todd sat in his childhood bedroom, staring blankly out of the window as snow softly fell to the ground. Despite being on winter break, he wasn’t in much of a festive mood. Not that he would even be able to muster anything positive. Not after…Neil. Or the Dead Poets. Or Mr. Keating. God, how was he supposed to move on when all that he loved was now gone?
An unexpected sob escaped past Todd’s lips, and suddenly, he realized he was crying again. That seemed to be all he did now. The weight of his grief had become too much for words. There was no poem that he could write that would even come close to describing his feelings anymore. All he was left with was his tears and the solace of his room.
Nevertheless, Todd willed himself from his spot next to the window and over to his desk; crumpled up drafts of writings littered the floor and desktop–-a sign of his past attempts to finally process everything that he had lost over the past two weeks, but seemingly to no avail. He grabbed another piece of paper, his grip on the pencil so tight that he could possibly break it in half. He stared at the paper, his tears staining it as they rolled down his cheeks. Nothing but the burning memory of that horrid night would come to him. No beautiful words to describe his heartache. No imagery to hide behind. Just the rawness of being woken up to Charlie’s heartbroken and shaky voice as he whispered,
“Neil’s dead.”
Todd slammed the pencil down as he buried his face in his hands, the tears rushing down his face like heavy rain. Nothing would ever be the same now that Neil was gone. Right after the news had hit, Todd noticed the Poets falling apart. They turned on each other, arguing and blaming one another as if they weren’t all laughing and smiling just a week before in the Old Indian Cave. As if they weren’t mavericks, citing poetry late at night when their oppressors were long asleep. As if they weren’t…friends.
It became suddenly apparent to Todd that he’d be completely alone when he returned to Welton. He wasn’t very close with the other boys like he was with Neil. Maybe there would have been hope had Charlie not gotten expelled…they were sort of friends. But he was gone now too, anger having gotten the better of him. Not that Todd blamed him all that much.. He was angry too. Angry at the way all of it had gone down. Angry at Neil’s parents for ripping such a beautiful life away from this world. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
No matter how desperately he wiped at his eyes, the tears kept coming. Ugly sobs bubbled from his chest, and he feared that if he were too loud his parents would hear—that they would see him like this. He tried covering his mouth, hoping it would muffle the sounds of his guttural anguish, but then it became hard to breathe. It felt as if his chest was caving in, finally breaking under all the weight of his grief.
By now, the paper was completely ruined, his tear stains now tear puddles as his body shook with uncontrollable sadness. He wiped at his face again, trying to choke down the mass of mucus that kept spilling from his nose. Neither of it helped.
Still, he tried to calm himself. He wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his body as he imagined the only boy—no, person—to have ever understood him. In turn, it only made him cry more as he realized that Neil was truly gone. He wouldn’t be there when the break was over. He wouldn’t be there encouraging Todd to live each day to its fullest. To take chances or be brave. He wouldn’t be there to fill the silence of the night, or warm the room with his smile. No, he was dead. Truly and utterly dead. Yet another freight train of grief hit him, and Todd began to wonder if he would ever be happy again. Or if it, too, died that night.
But soon, the feeling of his heartache became desperate, choking him until he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his pencil from the desk–grip just as tight as before–scribbling nonsense onto the page. The words seem to come out in clunky, unsavory verses. They weren’t poetic or beautiful like they should be, instead they were raw… vulnerable. It showed a side of Todd he didn’t let anyone see. The only person who got to see him be so open…well, he was sure to keep it a secret now.
His fingers tightened harder around the pencil as it scratched its way across the page. His lips quivered as his sobs dimmed down to hiccups; his bleary eyes blinking away unshed tears. His chest felt lighter as air finally broke through his lungs. His words continued to spill across the page, the urgency behind each stanza dulled to a numbing ache.
The words he wrote weren’t any prettier now, they just came easier as Todd allowed himself to let go— to stop thinking and just write. It was the kind of writing Neil encouraged him to do. The kind that Todd would try to hide, afraid to share such intimate feelings—even with paper—and yet, Neil always seemed to find them. And Neil never judged.
Todd stared at the words on the page. None of it really made sense; they were just words haphazardly thrown together in an act of desperation, but they were real. Each broken syllable became a reflection of every feeling that had been weighing him down. It wasn’t his best work—if anything, it was most definitely his worst—but he knew of one person who would like it..
The poem sat perfectly folded in his jacket pocket as he walked through the snow, soft snowflakes peppering his hair. He had only made this walk once, but he was able to find his way back rather easily. His hands curled in his pocket, the uneasy memory of having to carry his friend’s coffin to its final resting place causing his stomach to twist. But, he was determined, so he kept marching on.
The graves were hard to read with the snow covering them, but Todd didn’t need them to guide him. He knew where he was. He knew exactly which grave he was going to. He knew it wasn’t far from the entrance gates, but still far back enough that you had to walk for a considerable time. He knew that it was essentially in the middle of this huge cemetery, leaving his grave to be looked over—forgotten. …just like how his parents saw him.
His winter boots crunched beneath the snow, the noise quieting down as he slowed to a stop. He knelt against the cold ground, wiping the grave of its cold cover. The chiseled words in the granite slab were still fresh, the indents perfectly painted gold…it was just as pretty as the day they buried him.
Neil Perry
1942–1959
Beloved son, student, and friend
Todd softly smiled, tears breaching his eyes again. He pulled the poem from his pocket, clutched in his shaky hands.
“Hi, Neil,” he whispered, the condensation from his mouth becoming small clouds in the cold air. “I brought you something. … It’s a poem. I–um–-wrote it for you.”
Carefully, he unfolded the note, his hands shaking as the wind whipped at his hunched over body, “You always told me I should be more honest with my feelings…so...”
Tears gently rolled down his cheeks, the words catching in his throat. But he clutched onto the paper, wiping his face as he began to read,
“I miss you, Neil
I miss you more than I do anything else
I miss you more than the moon when the sun hides it
More than the sun when the moon takes its place
I miss your smile, sweet and rich like a decadent cake
I miss your eyes, dark pools of brown that held so much wonder
I miss your passion, the way you would never give up on something you love
I miss everything about you
But mostly, I miss the way you saw me
Knew me
Loved me
Like I was the most important thing in the world
Now you are gone and things will be so different now
I will miss you forever
I will miss you until my heart gives out
I will miss you even when I’ve died, buried beside you
I miss you, Neil Perry
I miss you”
Todd’s body shook as he began to sob again. This time, he didn’t try to hide it, or wipe the tears away. He knew it would be no use. There was no one there to judge him now. No person to tell him to man up. No parents to scold him for being so weak. Just him and the emptiness of his soul—his other half buried six feet under.
He pushed some of the snow aside, clearing a small patch of grass for the note to sit on. He quietly sniffled, brushing away the few stray tears that seemed to take their time to fall. He knew he should be heading home soon—he could feel a cold start up already—but he found himself unable to move. As if leaving his spot meant leaving forever. Of course, Todd knew that to be untrue, he could visit anytime he wanted, but leaving now would mean leaving this moment. Leaving to go back to how he was meant to behave. Back to what society deemed as appropriate for boys. Back to a place that trapped him.
But…he knew he should be heading home soon. It was late, and he could only imagine what his parents would do if they were to find him missing. It was best to leave.
He sighed, a new weight on his chest as he placed a rock on top of his poem, hoping the wind wouldn’t blow it away. He took one last look at his friend’s grave, admiring how cleaned it looked compared to those rotting beside it, and leaned close to it. Gingerly, he pressed his lips to the cold stone in a subtle and quick peck, hauling himself off the ground.
“Goodbye, Neil. I love you,” he softly admitted, walking away into the frozen night, back to his warm house with his warm bed. Away from the only place he’ll ever be free.