dead poets society oneshots

anyway, don't be a stranger

It was a busy day at the bookstore, when Charlie came in this morning. Almost a bit too busy for a thursday.

He was already annoyed when he had to press through a whole crowd of people standing around by the poetry isle and that was before he had even tried to get himself a table at the café.
On regular days, with a normal amount of costumers, Charlie loved coming here to work, have a coffee and a cake and enjoy the calm atmosphere that really helped him focus.
However he could only dream of that right now.

When he got to the café, all the tables were already packed and there was an enormous queue by the counter.
Amazing.
Charlie pressed through to get to a staff guy. David was his name and they'd been in multiple full conversations, apart from small talk now, so Charlie would consider him as somewhat of a friend.

"Hey, what's going on here? You guys giving out books for free or what?"

David chuckled and shook his head, "Did no one tell you? We've got a signing from 10 to 12. Some poetry guy, forgot his name. Something with an A." He nodded towards a corner of the poetry isle, where the biggest crowd of people was currently at. Charlie tried to get a look at the poet mentioned, but he couldn't even make out the signs they had put up.

He sighed, "I kind off wanted to actually get a poetry book today."

"Yeah, well good luck getting through there. If you get in row maybe you'll get an autograph on top."
David lifted his hand for a quick goodbye and walked off.
He was lucky, Charlie thought. A job here would've been great, so much greater then at the bank for sure. But not everyone could run away from their inevitable future could they?

He sighed to himself, fixed the bag on his shoulders and started pushing himself through the crowd, with many 'Sorry's and 'Excuse me's.
He ran into a woman at the front and almost got ran over by a little toddler in pigtails but eventually he got to where he wanted to go.

Only, that once he was able to make out more from the signs he had earlier only been able to espy the very tops of, his poetry was long forgotten.

They were big and blue, there was an all too familiar face printed in the very center and in grey letters it said 'Todd Anderson'.

Charlie's heart dropped to the pitch of his stomach.
Todd Anderson.
He knew that Todd lived somewhere in this area but actually having him so close was odd. They hadn't spoken in years, over a decade even and Charlie hadn't had actually planned on changing it.
Not because they had fought or anything, there wasn't even any bad blood between them. They'd just drifted apart after Todd's sudden dissapearing one night, where he had taken Charlie's very best friend right with him.

But now, that they were both here, could he really just leave without even seeing Todd? Without finding out how he was doing? There were so many things left unsaid and so many questions unanswered, Charlie wanted to at least say hello, see if Todd remembered.

He tried to get a good look, getting on his tiptoes and stretching his neck, but the crowd was just too big, so he decided to wait it out the last half an hour until Todd would be leaving.

He roamd through the poetry books as the people began to leave and the view to the wooden table became clearer and clearer.
With every little bit more of Todd, it felt like Charlie remembered him less. It was almost like they'd never known eachother. This Todd was confident. He was smiling as he talked to these complete strangers and signed their books with such ease, talking about whatever.
Charlies throat felt dry when he walked closer.
He didn't dare to just walk up to the table like everyone else did, so by the time he was close enough, he could've started a conversation, Todd was already packing up.