Nobody Knows This Little Rose - Dead Poets Society x Reader

8

Her grades definitely got quite a boost after that. She suspected that Meeks had told a few of the others how you were a bit insecure and shakey about the workload they helped you loads more during the study session after the chat.

Just on time, the long-awaited English class rolled around. Part of y/n was giddy with excitement at the thought of sharing her poem, the other part trembling with nerves. 

As she walked into the room, taking her seat in the front row, she noticed how perfect the day was. The October chill hadn't quite settled in yet, and the windows along one wall were thrown open to entice the pleasant breeze that played beneath the sun's rays. The whole class seemed slightly on edge, chattering nervously while they waited for Mr. Keating to make an appearance.

"Nervous, Todd?" y/n spoke quietly, leaning to the left to address the boy in the desk net to her. He jumped in surprise at hearing his name, and looked at her wide-eyed, as though he was being attacked. 

"Sorry?!" He blurted.

She smiled understandingly and put a gentle hand on his arm. "I know it'll be great," She told him comfortingly, "And..." She hesitated for a moment, glancing over her shoulder before leaning in a little bit closer. Her voice dropped an octave so only he could hear her. "I know Neil will love it. Whatever you've written" She grinned encouragingly at him.

He went from white to pink faster than you could blink. Flushing beet red from chin to hairline his eyes widened even further, and he stuttered for a moment. "Y-you think so?" He asked, reflexively glancing over to where Neil was talking to Charlie and running a hand through his hair. 

"I know so" Y/n whispered, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go and pulling away as Mr. Keating entered the room.

"Shows on, buckle up, hold on to your horse's gents" He called, striding to the front of the room. 

"And lady!" Y/n called out, to scattered chuckles from the class.

"And lady" Mr. Keating agreed and mocked tipping his hat to her. "Alright, I know you all have been having nightmares about this day for the last week, so let's get into the thick of it, shall we?" He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "I think we ought to have Mr. Pitts come up first, don't you think?" He said the characteristic gleam in his eye brightening as he beckoned the tall boy up to the front of the room. Charlie started to wolf whistle.

"See? You've already got fans" Keating said, and everyone laughed. Pitts smiled appreciatively, but there was no doubt about it, he looked a bit nervous to present his poem. The juxtaposition between Mr. Keating, energetic, dynamic, and laughing, and Pitts, who stood tall as a bean pole but with slumped shoulders and shuffling feet was a poem within itself.

Mr. Keating backed to the side of the room, so Pitts had the floor to himself. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket and began to read:

"The stars shine bright tonight

As they always do

But they do not shine as bright

As when I am with you

For all the wind and rain

It will never wash away

That special hurt, that twinging pain

That lingers because you did not stay"

He shrugged as he finished reading and a smattering of applause greeted him. He stuffed the paper back in his pocket and looked at Mr. Keating for instruction.

"Excellent, Excellent!" Keating cried, walking over and slapping him on the back. "My only question... do you need help? Seems like you might need someone to talk to... if that poem is genuine" The class giggled and Pitts shook his head.