song of the chapter: lights are on ; tom rosenthal
(y/n)'s pov...
(y/n) had always loved Autumn - despite the new school year's stressful energy. Particularly at Welton, the scenery was stunning, a rival of Monet. As if the legendary artist himself had taken up burnt amber and yellow ochre, splashing the brush against the trees, creating a wonderful halo, ringed by the late afternoon sun on this September day. The sound of students taking time to destress by the shining lake's reflective waters was like music to (y/n)'s ears as the leaves crunched beneath her Mary Jane-clad feet.
Neil had removed his arms from around the blonde, shy boy's shoulder and (y/n)'s and had taken to walking in front, like a leader of sorts. Well, not 'of sorts'. In the short time (y/n) had been a tentative member of their little unlikely clique, she had already noticed Neil was always in the spotlight, someone that everyone could rely on - always. Together, they walked quickly out of the building to follow her mentor, who was headed for the lake.
Meeks and (y/n) walked side-by-side, occasionally exchanging glances of reassurance at the other, since they were both slightly nervous of what might be revealed about the Dead Poets Society. Keating walked a little way ahead of them, whistling cheerfully to himself, clearly appreciating the scenery, just as (y/n) was. She couldn't help but notice how much of her own personality had stemmed from Keating's teachings and general mannerisms. Neil walked faster towards the poetry teacher.
"Mr. Keating?" he called, to which came no reply "Mr. Keating? Sir? Oh captain, my captain?" Finally, the elder man turns around to face his pupils.
"Gentlemen," he addressed them, before turning to (y/n) "(y/n), dear." The group chuckles lightly, although (y/n) took notice of the awkward aura emanating all around them. After all, it wasn't often a student dared address a faculty member outside of instruction hours here at Hell-ton.
"We were just looking through your old annual." Neil informs the man, while the others remain quiet. Cringing, Mr Keating grabs the weathered yearbook from the younger boy, laughing as he examined the memories drawn in ink within its pages.
"Oh my, God," he exclaims "No, that's not me. Stanley "The Tool" Wilson - God." he kneels down and leaves crunch beneath him. (y/n) strolls to stand beside him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. He looks up adoringly at her, the closest thing to a daughter he'd ever had. Somewhat anxiously, she asks him the question they've all been dying to hear the answer to.
"Sir," she began "we were just curious, what exactly was this 'Dead Poets Society'?" On the other side of him, Neil also kneels down, brown eyes full of anticipation.
"I doubt the present administration would look to favorably upon that." he laughs nervously and (y/n) frowns.
"Why is that, Mr. Keating?"
"Yeah, what was it?" Neil aids his friend in prodding the man further. Behind him, the rest of the boys stand with their hands in their pockets, happy to let Neil and (y/n) take charge in the investigation. Keating glances around at each of the boys in succession thoughtfully.
"Gentlemen, can you keep a secret?" he implores his group of pupils - (y/n) in her plaid skirt and Mary Jane's, the rest in dull, grey slacks and Oxfords.
"Sure." the brunette boy on the Autumn ground promises as the other boys kneel down, one after the other.
"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow of life." he says with emotion, (y/n) could sense he was feeling quite nostalgic. "That's a phrase from Thoreau we would invoke at the beginning of every meeting. See, we would gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley - the biggies." Each young face was alight with wonder, and broad smiles. "Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let the poetry work its magic." Knox looked, as per usual, lost and confused.
"You mean, it was just a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?" he asks, to which Mr. Keating mocks with:
"No, Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just guys. We weren't a Greek organization, we were romantics. And we didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues - like honey." he paints a gorgeous portrait in (y/n)'s mind of young men, learning to feel alive from one another.
"Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, Gentlemen." (y/n) coughs politely "and lady. Not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?" with a wink at (y/n), he hands the book back to Neil. The girl looks over from her spot on the colorful ground towards Meeks, who is focused on Mr. Keating. "Thank you for this stroll down amnesia lane, Mr. Perry. Burn that. Especially my picture." and with that, he rises to his feet once again, the sunlight catching in his brown hair as he helps (y/n) to her feet. He resumes his lively tune and walks once again towards the lake, amongst the students on break. She brushes off her skirt before turning to follow Mr. Keating away from the boys. However, a hand reaches out to ever so gently grasp her wrist.
Turning around, she sees Meeks. She can't help her heart from skipping a beat with his hand on her wrist, keeping her back. "(y/n), the bell's about to go off. C'mon." he says kindly.
"Dead Poets Society." Neil repeats quietly to himself. His short-lived revelations were so rudely interrupted by the bell, obnoxiously announcing to the students that their pleasant time outdoors was being replaced by more mind-numbing education.
"I say we go tonight." he announces as the group glances around, debating whether or not to risk listening to Neil or running back into the oak foyer.
"Tonight?" Charlie questions
"Now, wait a minute." Cameron butts in, while (y/n) rolls her eyes.
"Everybody in?" the brown-eyed boy asks, very much oblivious to the looks on the faces of those around him. From the back, Pitts throws his own question in amongst the others'.
"Where's this cave he's talking about?"
"It's beyond the stream. I know where it is!" Neil reassures them, while (y/n) has a mild internal conflict. On one hand, this Dead Poets Society business was quite appealing to her after hearing how enjoyable and romantic the idea was to her idol. On the other hand, her attendance at Welton was very much probationary, as Mr. Nolan had determined earlier that summer. One misstep, a single assignment lower than a 90, and she was headed straight back home to her mother's in London. Was she really willing to throw her future away, just to enjoy reading verse with these scholars? Looking around her, eyes bright and calculating, (y/n) made her decision.
First, Meeks. Smart, kind, loyal - forever making her logic seem less reliable, was worth it. Neil, in all of his overdramatic, supportive and slightly chaotic glory, was worth it. Charlie, charming, funny, and quite a character to say the least also met her standards. Pitts and Knox? Too wonderful and innocent to even be considered anything other than worth it. Cameron, while he certainly wasn't her favorite of all the boys, was still dedicated, headstrong, and brilliant - all to similar to herself. Finally, Todd Anderson. He was quiet, shy, and never really talked much to (y/n), but she was finding herself constantly drawn to him, and found him to be trustworthy beyond any capacity. So, yes, he was also worth it.
And so, this is how (y/n) found herself walking alongside Meeks, with Dr. Hager yelling at them from the door, responding to Neil by saying;
"Yes, me. I'll attend this lovely society, so long as I might recite from Dickenson's collective, that is." She was the first, and the rest soon followed in her footsteps.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Later that evening, (y/n) sat at the study hall table surrounded by her friends, although not paying them any of her attention, for it was wholly engrossed in reviewing her annotations within her Dickenson collection. She planned to read verse after Neil's opening, so she was trying her very best to select a poem that might leave the boys hanging on the edge of their seats.
"Hey, (y/n), did you finish your chemistry for the week?" Cameron asks, breaking her concentration.
"Hmm?" Ahe asks, not bothering to look up at the fiery redhead. He scoffs and asks her again.
"Oh, yeah, it's in my room though so no cheating, Charlie." she chastises while he makes sounds of protest.
"How dare you assume I would cheat off of your work, my sweet?" he gestures to his heart, as if struck by an arrow. From the front of the room, McAllister yells;
"Oh, shut up, will you?" and (y/n) is left to the comforts of her creative mind.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
They gathered in Charlie's doorway before curfew, keeping an eye out for Hager, who was on the prowl as always.
"Alright, so who's gonna get (y/n) from her room tonight?" Knox whispers to the other teenagers. They all stare at (y/n), privately hoping she'll choose them. However, she already had someone in mind, who was not too far from where she was standing.
"Later, Neil." she says as her tall friend strolls by, heading for his dorm. He shoots her a wink before disappearing into a doorway. His departure starts a chain reaction, each boy to his room with his roommate. All except Todd, who was still readying himself for sleep. Cautiously, (y/n) sneaks to where he was doing his nightly routine.
"Hey, Todd, might if we chat for a sec?" she asks. He says nothing in response, but nods his assent. "Well, I was wondering if you might be the one to come and fetch me from my bedroom?" he flushes red.
"Why me?" he asks, innocence and anxiety plain on his face.
"Because, blondie, you're the one I trust the most. Out of all of you, you seem the most harmless to a young lady such as myself." Realization dawns on his face.
"Oh, sure, yeah." he stumbles over his words, walking beside (y/n) towards his room. Hers was besides Dr. Hager's which would certainly make the sneaking out bit quite difficult. Luckily, she'd gotten pretty good at sneaking around.
"Right then, see you later!" she waves him goodnight before closing the door behind her. As soon as she hears the door latch into place, she turns the key and places it on her bookshelf before preparing her things for the meeting. Dickenson was thrown into a leather satchel, along with a single torchlight and a few candles, for good measure. Lastly, (y/n) placed the last of her hidden stash of sweets into the bag before closing it up. She'd given Todd an extra key that Keating had provided, so he could let her know they were on their way to the cave.
And now, she simply had to wait.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: yayyy the boring stuff is over and now (y/n) and meeks can get closer hehehehe. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed ofc and adios!