wherefore art thou » dead poets society

sibelius

"i think this is brilliant."

mr. keating's hands were grasped together, sitting back on the desk and his eyes teeming with upmost satisfaction. he bore a wide-spread, beaming smile on his face, the look of a proud father. alas, neil felt the little pieces of his heart manage to stay intact long enough to soar — if only for a second. evaline, who stood stiffly by the door, seemed to disagree quietly, fingers interlaced and clenching so tightly that skin drained taught over her knuckles were a bright white. the truth was, neil never pretended to know evaline. because really, he didn't. did anyone? no. of course, he knew menial facts and trivial details about her. he knew her birthday was in december. he knew that she didn't like tea with sugar. he knew that she couldn't sing very well. but he didn't know what she meant right at that moment.

"i'm more than confident you'll make the auditions. don't hesitate, neil, carpe diem!"
keating chortled, throwing his head back as if it were some ingenious joke that neither eva nor neil could understand. "don't you think so, eva? he's incredible."

her mouth formed something a toddler with awful motor skills and much determination would draw — a thin, tightly pressed line. however the ends of her mouth curled ever so slightly upwards in an unreadable expression. she looked pained, forced, not quite herself.

"yes, he's quite brilliant."

she wasn't lying, because neil knew she would chew at her lips if she was lying. but she wasn't telling the truth either. keating drew a brow up at this response that was so clearly dragged out, syllable by syllable, through grinding teeth.

"lover's quarrel? oh little ones, when i and the missus were still in the golden days of our youth, we had our fair share of bickering too," he hummed, not at all catching onto tbe severity of the situation, "as long as at dusk, when the sun falls, you both come to your senses and realize that -" he paused. he picked up some chalk from the table. he then quite promptly threw a piece at evaline, hitting her forehead. she gaped. any self restraint neil had in his body crumpled and a snicker slipped out at evaline's startled expression and the powdery white streak across her forehead. but then his laughter was cut short when he himself was hit by said chalk. which then led to evaline blossoming into cackles and ungracious snorts. and all of the above only amused john keating, who leaned even further back in his chair (if that was possible).

"as long as you both realize that it's an absolute waste of time. now, what latin sentiment do we chant religiously in this class?"

"carpe diem, sir," neil chuckled, crossing over to evaline's side in three quick strides. he drew his thumb over the chalk on her face and her stony features cracked into a slight smile. but her eyes betrayed her — they glimmered like brilliant jewels.

"exactly, my boy. now run along children, seize your day and, please, live a little more."

they left the room with faces teeming with glee and as soon as they stepped out into the hall, neil gathered evaline into his arms and peppered small kisses onto her face. "you can't still be mad at me."

"oh i'm positively livid, love. i'm fuming at the ears," she grinned up at him. "i just might have to teach you a lesson."

and he leaned in, hot breath grazing her chin as he breathed a laugh. his eyes glimmered like little black jewels and she could smell the scent of clean laundry on him. "oh yes please," he chuckles teasingly.

she smacked him for that innuendo, but to him it was but a brush of the wind.

"let me take you somewhere."

and he wasn't quite sure where he was going and she didn't quite seem to mind. four feet treading across the campus, the country, the word. two pairs, one following the other tightly. so tightly that the footprints became one at times, almost as if they had become one cohesive being. but never quite. no, there was never quite perfect steps as he was a little more hurried and she walked with slightly weightier hesitance tied like lead to her legs. he stopped by the dock.

"do you ever wonder," she asked, when they finally settled down on the worn wooden dock, "if we really have complete control over what we do?"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, do you really think that you — and i — that any of us have any say in anything?"

"i don't know i never really thought that much about it."

"oh bullocks."

"sorry?"

"why do you do that?"

she suddenly look at him — no, she pried her way into his eyes, his soul. that's the thing about her eyes and the way she looked at people. it was like her bare hands would tear into the depths of his being and she would emerge with fingers dripping in life but still fix him with that quiet, almost unsatisfied look. it was a drug. it made him feel something when she did that. it turned his blood into shame and adrenaline and pure ecstasy. but at least she was speaking to him. at least the unbearable canyon that opened between them had begun to shift. right? alas, she didn't quite speak about the menial things as he had hoped she would to rekindle their relationship. "how was your day, neil?" "it was good, dear. a lot of homework, though." of course not.

"why do you lie to yourself, neil," she murmured all so softly, heartbroken almost as she continued to hold him at gunpoint with those black eyes. they swallowed him. the molasses of her stare, their slow viscous crept towards him — he could almost taste it. salt. tears. she's sad.

neil swallowed. why. good question. he felt a sudden clamminess in his hands and cold fingertips stroking the length of his spine. "because," he started. stopped. stared at something in the distance (two crows). he looked down (water). back up (evaline). "b-because it makes me feel a little better when i don't have to face it."

"that's no way to live," she shoots back immediately. molasses. still oozing. hot, too. it finds its way, like it was alive, across his skin and he feels like he's being choked. but he's alive. "why do you do this to yourself?"

neil wonders, watching the sun simmer at the waters edge. the horizon had begun feasting upon the light, frenzied mouthfuls of beaming amber and gold. he wonders if he'll ever be able to look at evaline and not feel that way. he wonders if he'll ever be able to find something a bit more tangible and real in her gaze. he wonders if a white dove, drenched in black molasses, can still fly.