Carpe Diem |D.P.S. One shots

7. Thunderstorms - Todd x Neil

It isn't until late November that Neil learns Todd's childhood fear. 

* * * 

Classes ended earlier, there wouldn't be any dinner that night, all because an extreme thunderstorm was predicted for that evening. Neil knew he was hungry, he felt empty and slow. He had skipped lunch that day, he had been too invested in a book. He knew Todd had food (he kept a box of cereal hidden in his closet), but was too stubborn to ask for any. He watches his biology textbook, waiting for the information to find home in his mind and for the pages to turn on their own. 

Thunder booms through the sky and he hears Neil jump and hit his typewriter. Neil turns and sees the back of Todd shaking subtly  and hears him take a deep breath. Neil moves from his seat at his desk and moves over onto Todd's bed to see what's wrong. Todd looks up at him quickly and returns his attention back to his typewriter. 

"I'm fine Neil, really." 

"I didn't say anything." Neil forces himself to listen to the keys clack rather than the rain pounding against the window and the wind whistling through the air. A bolt of lightning lights up the sky and suddenly the power is gone. The lights are gone. A second bolt lights the room with a white glow, only for a second. Then room is dark and cold, Neil can't remember another time when it was like it. Todd doesn't realize he's frozen until Neil shakes his shoulder. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Neil asks quietly. Todd nods. Another crack of thunder is heard and Neil swears he hears Todd whimper, like a child about to cry. Neil pulls him over to his bed and wraps an itchy, wool blanket around the both of them. He keeps his arm around Todd's shoulders and refuses to move. Neil leans his head against Todd and stares across the room, he doesn't seem to notice the dead leaves whirling across the sky. 

Todd sucks in a breath and whispers, "I hate thunderstorms, I don't know why but I do." 

"Not even one idea?"

"No. It's probably connected to some childhood trauma. But that's not an idea, I don't know which one." Neil couldn't tell if that was a joke or not. He leans back against the wall and watches Todd stare off into the dark room.  Neil tries to think of something positive to say, but his thoughts run blank. He takes in the sight of Todd's side of the room; which is easier when he can't catch you staring. He can see the pile of books under his bed and the worn out quit that's push underneath. He sees how worn out Todd's typewriter is, probably another hand me down. But what he finally notices, is the small Elvis sticker above the keys. 

"You listen to Elvis?" Neil asks. Todd looks up at him and then to his typewriter. 

"When Jeffery is blasting it in his room," he states. "I'm not much of a music person."

"What does that mean? Everyone likes music!"

"I know! But it's hard for me to find anything I like. The music on the radio. . . There's something about it. It's too bold, like it's trying to hard for people to listen to it." 

"Maybe you just don't like rock music."

"Maybe," Todd agrees. 

"I bet you'd like jazz."

"Jazz?"

"Yeah. Like Billie Holiday."

"I think I've heard of her."

"I'll be seeing you, in all the familiar places," Neil hummed. Todd only listened, he liked hearing Neil sing, even if he was terrible. Neil could feel his back stiffen and shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. 

"We could lay down if you want," Todd suggested. Neil pulled Todd against him as he fell to the worn out comfort of a Welton dorm room bed. Neither of them thought of separating, something that wouldn't come to mind for a dozen more hours. Todd rested himself against Neil's chest while his arm was still wrapped around him.