𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 & 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

Todd ☞︎︎︎ pt.2 beautiful mistake

A/N : hi...i am so so sorry for how long this took to be published oh my god. but i am back with a new part and i'm so happy to post it. i hope you will like it, and the next part that is in the process will be the last one
also, the poem in this is by me, do not steal it or repost it without asking me please and thank you
<33

☼︎☼︎☼︎

Neil walked toward Todd's desk, taking a pencil that rested on a few papers. He frowned as he saw the paper behind another. A few words were seen on the corner that exceeded. As curious as he was, Neil took out the paper and read the black words there. A frown appeared on his face then a smile.

The door opened and Todd entered, drying his wet hair. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Neil next to his desk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, seeing the paper in his hands

"Did you wrote a love poem for Y/n?"

☼︎☼︎☼︎

Todd looked at the words of his handwriting, on the paper that Neil was showing him. He closed the door and walked forward, taking the paper from his hands.

"Where did you find this?" he put it back under some papers

"So it really is a love poem for her" Neil smiled

"No Neil, it's not"

"Then what is it? You wrote a love poem just for fun?"

"Exactly!" Todd replied, looking for an excuse as the truth was right there "It's for the English class"

"Todd"

"Neil"

The two looked at each other and Todd sighed before walking toward his bed, sitting against the headboard and opening a book. Neil watched with a smirk and plopped down on his bed, staring at the book the letter was in.

By the time Todd was asleep, Neil wasn't. He waited for his friend to fall asleep, he knew this letter was for Y/n. The way Todd's face twitched when Neil asked him, the way his eyes very slightly widened and his cheeks became of a clear pink color. But Neil also knew that Todd wasn't the one to talk about his feelings, and would never send this letter.

So Neil got up, one in the morning, and silently walked out of his room, the poem folded in his hands. He avoided the piece of the wood-made floor that creak when you step on it, and went toward Y/n's room.

As a paper slid under her door, the girl was deep asleep, her covers up to her nose.

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴠ :

In the morning, as Mr. Nolan banged on your door to wake you up, you groaned as you looked at the ceiling you learned to know these last months. That was not like home, it wasn't the birds or leaves you were hearing, it was the first years outside in the snow.

Today was Saturday, which meant no classes. But still wake early. "future belongs to the ones that wake up early" Mr. Nolan had said one day. "step one, have a future" Charlie had retorted.

You sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. When you saw it. The paper resting on the floor a few feet away from the door. You frowned, mixed with surprise and curiosity, and got up to take it. When you unfolded it, your eyes stopped. Slowly, you sat down against the wall and read the unknown words made of black ink.

The scent of flowers invade my nose
However not long sufficient
I suffer there gazing at you
You as gorgeous as a rose