dead poets society oneshots

don't read the last page

Neil had many tiny marks scattered around his body. A few spots on his chest where he used to pick his skin, small smile lines next to his eyes and mouth, and a scar, right by his eyebrow.
His scar was itchy and he had to force himself not to reach up and rub it until it turned red again.

Neil's eyes flickerd back down to the script in his hands and he mumbled a few of the lines he hadn't managed to remember.
"Hey, Romeo, " He didn't have to look up to know that Todd was standing in the doorframe, "dinners almost ready, you coming?"

"Yes, yeah, five minutes. " Neil had been caught up in the new play he was doing for over a month now. It was a modern adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, meaning he had finally managed to get cast in his dream play as his dream role.

"Alright, but hurry or it'll be cold." Todd smiled softly and retreatedto the kitchen. Neil dropped his skript. The living room had gone pretty dark after sun set and it was getting hard for him to read the words anyway. He sighed and leaned over to turn on one of the small lights beside the couch.
His back was stiff when he stood and he clumsily strolled over to the kitchen, past their shelf with keys and pictures, the jacket hangers and the shoe rack.
Todd was busy getting their plates ready, so Neil started getting out their cutlery and two cups with water.

"The rehearsal are going good?" Todd asked, putting the plates down and slid into the chair opposite of Neil.

"Yeah, I think so. At least I finally know the balcony lines now."

"Romeo, oh Romeo where art thou Romeo?" Todd grinned, putting a fork with pasta in his mouth.

Neil chuckled, "Exactly. "
"And you're okay with, you know, doing that ending?"

Neil's throat went dry. He kept his eyes fixated on his plate, "Yeah, I am." It wasn't even a lie, necessarily. He was okay with doing it. They had done it over and over in rehearsals, he had read the scene about a billion times. It had barely anything to do with his own experience. He shouldn't be anxious about it.

He took a sip of his water, "You know, Charlie wants to do a whole video of the show secretly." He laughed, a little too nervously, eager to change the subject.
Todd obviously picked up on it but didn't mention anything.
They finished they're dinner and Neil cleaned off the plates while Todd prepared a movie for them.

Neil had his head in Todd's lap. The movie was almost over and he was half asleep. His scar was itchy and he reached up to scratch it, but Todd softly guided his hand back, placing a careful kiss right where the scar was. Neil closed his eyes.
He felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep, dreaming off balconies and guns.

About a week after, Neil was shaking nervously in his make up chair.

He had completed an entire play flawlessly, Todd was out there waiting for him to continue giving the performance of a life time, and Neil couldn't.
They had covered his scar with concealer and it just made the itch even worse, his shirt was sticking uncomfortably agaisnt his back and he had the requisite gun laying in front of him.
It was like a sick nightmare he had to relive, that he never wanted to go back to ever again.
Neil was terrefied.
It hadn't felt so real until now, it hadn't been so close to reality.
What if it happend again? Neil wondered. What if, 2 days from now he'd be waking up in a hospital bed, stitches in his forhead and Todd by his side, pale and thin and scared.
He didn't want to do it again. He couldn't do it again.
His heart was hammering so hard it hurt and his palms were coverd in cold sweat.
He carefully picked up the gun and the moment his hand closed around the handle, it wasn't a requisite anymore.
Neil was 17 again, in his father's office, with a real gun and a real bullet.

He dropped the gun as if it'd burned him, a few gasps escaping him. He couldn't breath. His chest was tight, his eyes were glassy.

He pulled his legs so close to his chest not a paper would've fit in between and clinged to his knees. The room was spinning, the sounds from the stage were too loud and Neil was dying. He was sure of it.
He'd suffocate and dissapoint everyone, because he was so stuck in his past he couldn't separate it from his job.

"Neil, you're on stage in 3." His head shot up to where Ginny was standing, waiting for him to go up, but she must've seen something in his face. She must've seen the way his eyes were so big and teary, his face was ashen and his legs were bouncing.

"What’s going on? You okay?"

He couldn't reply. He couldn't breath. He couldn't do anything and Ginny must've understood at least somewhat.
She quickly closed the distance between them and layed her hands on Neil's knees.

"Don't freak yourself out. You're doing amazing, they all love you, you don't need to be scared. "
Or maybe she didn't quite grasp, what exactly terrified Neil. But how could she?
She never had to go through that time in Neil's life. She never had to experience him being a total burden for everyone he loved.
He involuntarily started crying. Hard. It was humiliating.

"Hey, hey, no, it’s okay, it's fine," Ginny seemed panicked, "Don't cry. What can I do? Do you want me to do something? Get someone?"

Neil nodded under his breathy sobs. He just wanted her to leave, if he was honest. Ginny was one of his closest friends and if he could just shield her from seeing who he reslly was, maybe it'd stay that way.
She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before rushing off to get him help.
Neil wasn't sure wether he was relieved that she was gone or freaked out of being alone.

The door opended again only about a minute later. Neil had curled up on himself completely unable to move, let alone go on stage.
Todd was there. He looked worried out of his mind and immediately stepped close enough to be able to hold Neil's face in his hands.

"I can't— I can't—" Neil gasped out reaching up to Todd's hands.

"It's okay, take a breath. It's okay, you're okay, breathe. " Todd whispered softly stroking Neil's teary cheeks.
But it just made everything worse. Todd was here to enjoy the show. He wasn't supposed to be kept from having fun again just because Neil was unable to take care of himself.

"You guys have like 2 minutes." Ginny announced, chewing around on her lip.

Todd turned to look at her, "Couldn’t you guys stretch it a little or something?"

"I'll see what I can do." She hurried out and shut the door.
Todd turned back. His eyes quickly flickerd over Neil's wet face, his mouth twitched downward.

"Do you wanna tell me what this is all about?"

Neil drew his eyebrows close together. He hadn't even realized when he'd been able to breath again, but his chest began to quickly rise and fall in it somewhat usual rhythm.

"I'm doing it again, Todd," he cried hoarsly, "I'm thinking about it again. Ever since the—the play I can't stop. And I'm thinking about how much I hurt you and how—"

"Hey, hey, hey, no," Todd interrupted, shushing him softly, "Don't you say that, Love. It was a horrible time, but you don't need to feel guilty for anything."

Neil opened his mouth to contradict, but Todd moved his hand over his mouth, "No, Neil, I know you don't agree but just this once, I'm not letting you argue." He paused for a moment, leaning against Neil's forhead.
Neil closed his eyes. Maybe, just for a while, he could let himself belive it.

"I think you need to give yourself more credit. You made it, Neil," Todd smiled lightly, "You're still here and you're doing amazing. It's normal that you still think about what happend, it's healthier then just burying it until you can't anymore."

Somewhere inside of him, Neil knew that Todd was right, he was doing great. And there was no time-line with this. No number of years after which he needed to move one. He was here, he was acting, he was living and he was happy.

Todd leaned back and took Neil's hands.
"Do you feel better?"

Neil sighed, "I think so, yeah."