#neil would never know how todd sounds while reciting poetry

[francisabernathysgf]

i just realised that neil never got to hear todd read the poems he wrote. ever.

[ithinkthereforeidread]

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

 Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

~~

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

[notanotherockstar]

‘Forbidden Fruit’

(Headcannons of being Nolan’s granddaughter and dating Charlie Dalton)

Warnings: smut, fluff, dead poets society spoilers

You meet Charlie at a diner.

And it is in no way like those meet cutes they show in the movies.

You’re just minding your own business and eating your pie waiting for your grandfather to arrive.

Charlie just happens to spot you sitting alone.

Beautiful girl, sitting alone in a booth, eating apple pie, he just assumes that you’ve been stood up.

He just plops down on the seat opposite you.

“Do I know you?” You ask.

He extends his hand towards you. “Charlie.”

“Y/N.” You shake his hand and immediately go back to your pie because pie>>>>>boys.

“So, what’s a beauty like you doing sitting alone in a place like this.”

“Eating pie.”

Charlie laughs, even though he’s confused, because how dare some girl not give into the charms of the great Charlie Dalton.

“Apple?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You answer as you begin to wonder how long he’s going to be sitting here for because your grandfather will most definitely kill him if he saw you two sitting together.

“Can I have a bite?”

“Will that make you go away?”

“Maybe.”

You push the plate forward and allow Charlie to take a bite.

“This good.” He moved forward to take another bite but you pull the plate back.

You shake your head. “Only one bite. That was the deal. Now scatter.” You motion for him to leave, a cheeky smile on your face and you take another bite out of the apple pie.

“One more bite and I’ll leave.”

“Liar.” You accuse him but push the plate forward anyway.

The two of you end up finishing the pie together so Charlie orders another one.

And then another.

And then another.

And then another.

Till there is no more pie left to order.

So you two end up laughing and bonding over a slices of chocolate cake.

When you’re half way through the second slice of chocolate cake Charlie decides he wants to ask you on a proper date.

But then the worst thing that could happen happens.

Your grandfather walks into the diner .

Charlie’s immediately reaction upon seeing his headmaster outside school is to go hide but he doesn’t he just stays frozen in his seat.

He feels like he’s going to faint when he sees you stand up and hug Nolan.

He sits absolutely still as you introduce Nolan as the grandfather you were waiting for when he first spotted you.

As he sits frozen in the booth Charlie’s eyes flicker between you and your grandfather as he begins to wonder how someone of beautiful and amazing could be related to the man who made his life a living hell for the past six years.

He then stands up and shakes both your hands before announcing that he had to leave since his friends must be worrying about him back in school.

Though it disheartens you, you peck his cheek goodbye.

Just as Charlie was about to step out of the door he turns to look back at you and winks sending an involuntary blush on your cheeks.

“He’s nice.” You tell your grandfather as you two sit down opposite each other in the booth.

“He’s trouble.”

You would soon learn that your grandfather was right.

Denying Charlie Dalton was trouble was just as good as denying that the earth revolves around the sun.

That very night, after dinner, you’re sitting on your bed reading a book when you hear something tap against the bedroom window.

You ignore it as first, continuing to read your book but the noise gets harder and harder to put aside as the tapping continues.

You push the windows open and look down to see Charlie standing there, dressed in his pyjamas and a thick black cloak.

“What’re you doing here, Charlie?” You yell as quietly as possible so as to not alert your grandfather inside the house.

He looks down at his palm and begins reading out everything Knox had told him to say.

Much to his surprise, by the time he was done talking, you were giggling instead of swooning.

“Stay right there.” You tell him before shutting the windows, shrugging on a robe and sneaking out to the backyard where Charlie was waiting for you.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, you know that?” you say as you walk through the freshly grass, the green blades pricking and dampening your bare feet.

“I’ve been told.” A cheeky smirk was painted on his well structured face.

You two spend a good chunk of your night talking. Just talking.

The two of you touch every topic from your love for literature, a general hatred towards almost every other topic taught in school and of course, having very shitty parents.

You guys sat on the grass and talked for hours and hours till your heard your grandfather yelling your name and Charlie was forced to run away.

Of course, Charlie being Charlie would not leave without a grand gesture which came in the form of a fleeting kiss.

“Y/N, what’re you doing out so late?” Your grandfather questions as he flashes the light from the torch on your face.

Still in a daze from Charlie’s kiss the only thing that comes out of your mouth was, “nothing.”

The kiss marked the beginning of not-so-secret secret relationship.

That included a lot of sneaking around the town for dates.

You sneaking him into your bedroom.

And him sneaking you into his dorm room when he’s sure no one else is around.

All the other boys know, of course, mainly because Charlie can’t stop talking about you.

They encourage him to invite you to one of the Dead Poets Society meetings.

“Can’t make women swoon if they aren’t any women.” Cameron says and he has to use all his strength not to punch his roommate in the face.

He isn’t very keen on the idea of sharing you with his friends yet but when he proposes the idea to you you jump at the chance.

Nothing sounds better than reading poetry in a cave in the middle of the night and the chance of getting to make new friends was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

You get along with all the boys almost immediately— except for Cameron. No one likes Cameron.

But the one you bond with most is sweet boy Todd.

You end up sitting between him and Neil during the meeting.

It takes a little while but once you break through this force field Todd created to keep other people out the two of you start talking about poetry and literature as though you did it on a daily basis.

Charlie gets VERY VERY jealous of you and Todd.

He has this murderous look in his eyes every time he hears you laugh at something Todd said.

After the meeting he offers to walk you home while the other boys walked back to school.

The walk somehow led to a weirdly satisfying make out session in the woods.

Which led to weirdly satisfying sex in the woods.

“Bet Todd can’t make you feel this way.” You hear Charlie mumble as the two of you put your clothes back on.

“What?” You laugh. “Charlie is that what this is all about? You’re jealous?”

“No.” He scoffs and helps you up.

“No, it’s alright.” You lock your arm with his as you two walk ahead together. “I think it’s cute.” You poke his cheek making him smile.

Going to more and more Dead Poets Society meetings with Charlie till all the boys simply became family— once again, except for Cameron. NO ONE likes Cameron.

Finding out that Knox helped Charlie organise all his big romantic gestures and dates.

In turn, you help Knox with Chris.

You also help Neil practice for the play by reciting lines with him.

Charlie gets jealous again.

And a jealous Charlie is a clingy Charlie.

So he joins you and Neil during practice.

He rests his head on your shoulder and his arms are wrapped around your waist.

Slowly moves his hand up your skirt and slowly (and discreetly) begins fingering you.

You moan mid line alerting Neil.

He immediately excuses himself out of the room.

You want to be angry at Charlie but don’t get chance since he immediately pulls you into kiss and then fucks you into his mattress.

Helping Charlie with his English homework and other subjects whenever possible.

Mr. Keating definitely knows about you.

Charlie told Keating after he confronted him about the English homework he knew Charlie definitely didn’t write himself.

So when you introduce yourself to Keating the evening of Neil’s play you’re surprised to find out that he already knows you.

Broom closet kisses when you come to visit Charlie your grandfather at Welton.

Even though there’s an excitement to having a secret relationship you want to come clean about it because it can get really stressful at times.

Charlie convinces you to keep it a secret for just a little while longer— at least till he graduates and no longer has to worry about Nolan expelling him if he hurt you in any shape or form.

But you have to come clean anyway once the whole Neil fiasco unravels.

There’s a lot of crying and a lot of begging and a lot of swearing and lot of threats to leave home and country and never return till a deal was finally shook upon between you and your grandfather.

You would leave, go back to with your parents/mother/father in exchange for Charlie retain his position at Welton.

Sadly you couldn’t do anything about Mr. Keating’s job.

It’s a very tearful goodbye between you and the boys.

And an even sadder one between you and Charlie.

He spends the night before you have to leave in your bedroom not caring about the repercussions.

You promise to write every week and call every moment you get and he promises to do the same.

[jacks-jester]

Dead Poet [Intro]

[Charlie Dalton x Reader]

Requested: No

Words: 1,830

A/N This is a new series I may potentially make. This is one of my favorite movies of all time, and I absolutely adore the character of Charlie. I’m trying to do passion projects to keep me motivated so I can get back into writing. I hate this is as short as it is, but to be fair its an intro. I’d like to continue this and make it a short series with a few installments, but who knows, maybe it will happen maybe it won’t. Anyways, this is unedited so apologies for any grammar mistakes.

You could feel the cool evening breeze sink into your bones, your arms instinctively wrapping the large overcoat you wore tighter over your shoulders. You were weaving your way in between numerous trees in the woods near Welton Academy, your friend Neil leading the way. You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, only getting vague descriptions from Neil- who insisted the night was going to be the “most fun you’ve ever had”. 

You had met Neil at the local auditions for Midsummer Nights Dream, the two of you immediately hitting it off and rehearsing with together in the audition waiting room. You had been overjoyed when you found out he was cast as Puck, and you were cast as Titania. The two of you had quickly become close friends throughout rehearsals, Neil becoming your best friend in no time as the two of you bonded over your mutual passion for acting. It was a few weeks into Midsummer rehearsals when Neil had casually brought up the Dead Poets Society, you had heard about the boys before but he had never brought up this secret ‘society’ before. It wasn’t long after he had invited you to attend the meetings, insisting that you would love it and would get along great with his friends from Welton.

You were in no reason to turn him down, so you agreed. That is how you ended up where you were now- in the middle of the pitch black mangrove of trees, rushing behind Neil, with only a single flashlight to lead the way to your secret destination. You could feel the nerves rise within you, boiling upwards from your stomach into your throat as you saw the opening of a cave in the distant glow of Neil’s  flashlight. You could hear the faint chatter and laughter of boys reverberating out of the cave and into the crisp winter air, smoke rising into the sky out of what appeared to be a crevice in the caves roof. Soon enough you and Neil were both climbing down into the cave opening, greeted by the laughter and smiles from three teenage boys. They all welcomed Neil warmly, clearly seeing him as a leader of sort, though they froze up the moment you came into their line of view.

Neil let out a small laugh as he noticed the way Cameron's mouth seemed to drop open once he caught sight of you. You could feel yourself growing self conscious as all the attention now seemed focused on you, you hadn’t dressed up, seeing as Neil told you it was an easy going and relaxed meeting. You had worn a simple pair of black cigarette pants, a brown belts, black Maryjane's, a Ridgeway High School sweater, and had your hair down the way you usually did. Neil let out a small cough getting the boys attention before speaking up, “This is y/n l/n, a friend of mine from the theater, she’s playing the fairy queen." 

“Nice to meet you all, I’ve heard a lot about you from Neil. So this is the famous Dead Poets Society?”

Neil opened his arms wide as if to show off the small cave with a wide grin on his boyish features, “The one and only. Now take a seat, that’s Cameron, Meeks, Pitts, and Todd. Lets get this meeting under way gentlemen.” All the boys visibly relaxed, going about their usual routine as they all got comfortable, Meeks sitting to your right and Todd to your left. You watched as Neil pulled an old book out, opening instinctively to the title page to read whatever was written aloud, the other boys chanting it with him.

“ I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life...”

They were all cut off as rustling and giggles began sounding from the entrance of the cave, everyone glancing over as three figure entered one by one. You figured it must be one of the missing members, though you were shocked to see two other girls entering the cave alongside him. You couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped you lips as you heard Cameron who was sitting across from you, “Oh my god.”

The girls stood awkwardly next to the boy who had entered alongside them, a black beret sitting atop his head as a large grin was plastered to his face. After some readjusting everyone began getting settled in once more, the girls sitting down delicately, though their posture was slightly uncomfortable. You figured maybe sitting in a damp cave while it was freezing outside wasn’t the way they had hoped to spend their evening.

You watched closely as Charlies voice rang throughout the small cave, “Guys, I have an announcement to make. In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I’m giving up the name Charlie Dalton. From now on, call me Nuwanda.” You had to hold back a laugh as several of the poet society members let their own chuckles escape at the name, Neil's face even morphing into one of confusion and amusement. 

“We gonna have a meeting or what?”

Your eyes flicked over to Gloria as she spoke up, “Yeah. If you guys don’t have a meeting, how do we know if we wanna join?”

“Join?” Neil's eyes flicked to you for a moment before returning to the book, flipping through the book to find a poem, only to be cut off by Charlie- or rather Nuwanda. “Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

“That's so sweet.”

“I made it up just for you.”

“You did?”

I let out a small chuckle of disbelief at the cluelessness of the blonde bimbo sitting near me. It was clear she had no idea who Shakespeare was, and definitely didn’t know his works- despite that recitation being from one of his most famous works. You watched amused as Gloria turned expectantly to Charlie, who was more than happy to woo her as well.

“I’ll write one for you too, Gloria. She walks in beauty like the night...” He paused for a moment, feigning though as though he truly was making it up on the spot. “She walks in beauty like the night. Of cloudless slimes and starry skies. All that’s best, dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes.” Her eyes widened as she let out a breath of flattery, “That’s beautiful.” You watched as Nuwanda’s grin grew wider, looking to the boys in a knowing manner before glancing back at Gloria. His eyes flitted across the cave for a moment, his eyes meeting your for what felt like forever but you knew was most likely only a fleeting second. His honey eyes were penetrating and passionate, holding your attention effortlessly, and more a moment you understood what caused the girls to believe every word he said without doubt.

You were only snapped out of your thought when he spoke up, “How about beautiful? Would you allow me the pleasure of coming up with a poem for you, a lot of things are coming to mind.” I was caught off guard for a moment before letting a coy smile play across my lips. “That depends, are they going to be original works? Because I’ve already read Lord Byron and Shakespeare, beautiful but not your words.” You watched as the two girls eyes flicked to you, annoyance coming across their faces, Tina speaking up. “I would recognize Shakespeare if I heard it, those words were meant for me. Nuwanda’s a poet, why else would he be in a poet society?” You watched a amused grin flicked across Charlies lips as his eyes remained on your figure. You let out a sigh and shrugged, “Suppose I was mistaken, I’m sure Nuwanda spoke from his heart.” That seemed to relieve the girls annoyances, though you sent a playful wink towards Charlie afterwards which he quickly reciprocated.

You couldn’t explain quite what it was about Charlie that caused him to be so devastatingly attractive, but whatever it was, it was drawing you in more than you cared to admit. Your eyes left Charlie and instead glanced at Neil who only chuckled and sent you a knowing smile. Neil had told you in the past about Charlie, always saying that he felt out of all of his friends, you and him would get along the best. Which you weren’t going to deny- Neil was spot on. Even with the other girls there, it seemed you and Charlie got on the most, sharing laughs as the meeting went on- the two of you having instant chemistry.

The night when on as you supposed their normal meetings would, smoking a few cigarettes, snacking on the pile of food the boys brought from the mess hall, drinking some alcohol, and reciting new and old poetry. Overall it was a fun and relaxed evening- a nice break from the seriousness of school and the long rehearsals for Midsummer. The night ended however with a bit of drama- Charlie revealing that he had published a article in the Welton Academy school paper in the name of the Dead Poets in order to protest that girls should be allowed to attend. 

This didn’t go over well with the other members- most notably Cameron who seemed exceedingly paranoid about getting found out as being involved. The issue was resolved as Nuwanda stated they would take the full blame if things got too heated and administration was looking for the Society. After the meeting concluded, the girls left together, Charlie and the other boys putting out the fire and cleaning up the mess within the cave. 

You watched in confusion as Neil stood up atop one of the rocks in the cave, his head nearly touching the highest part of the ceiling. “I want to nominate a new member of the Dead Poets Society, y/n l/n.” All the boys eyes flicked from Neil, to you, then back to Neil. “All members in agreement say aye, anyone in disagreement raise your hand.” Unanimously all the boys said aye, Charlies eyes catching yours, Neil flashing you a grin as you stood in shock. Neil cleared his throat to regain your attention, “Well y/n, everyone's in agreement except you. Wanna be a Dead Poet?”

Your eyes scanned the boys faces, all of which were grinning brightly at you, your eyes landing on Charlies. He nodded softly at you, a smirk on his lips as he urged you to accept the offer. You could feel a small smile appear on your lips as your eyes returned to Neil who was grinning hopefully at you.

“I accept.”

Charlies voice piped up, “Welcome to the DPS.”

You let out a small laugh at this and reconnected you e/c eyes with his deep brown ones, “Thanks Nuwanda.”