song of the chapter: diana by paul anka
3rd person pov...
The young girl, (y/n), and her mentor's cheerful walk through the lands was an ambient one, as they were surrounded by the warm palette of Autumn colors and she took joy from hearing them rustle in the wind.
"So, my dear," Keating begins after a few moment's silence "how are those boys treating you? You should consider yourself lucky, back in my day the Dead Poets were too afraid of women to let them join." She laughed loudly, and the older man's eyes sparkled as he took note of the life in her energy.
"Aw, they're honestly quite wonderful" she gushes "sure, they can each be your typical teenage American, a little self-absorbed, but they've always treated me like just another boy." For a few paces, Keating meditated on his response before speaking again.
"You do understand, (y/n), you are most unlike any other boy," she glanced up at him from under her eyelashes before nodding. "the dawn of a new era begins with you, and it is wholly up to you how you choose to proceed." (y/n) pursed her lips quietly, taking in his truth. After all, she was the dawn of a new era, a more feminist era in elite education. And she knew, she would do anything to make sure that the young women to come after her time would not have to be let in on a technicality, as she had been.
"They feel like home - older brothers who show affectionate in odd ways, but affection just the same." she took a breath before continuing "I've never met any gentlemen like them before, and their unique characters are what make their company so endearing." she chuckled, remembering the little moments of debauchery she had been subjected to during her short time at Welton. Mr. Keating smiled, never missing any of the little moments between the young girl he cared for, and none other than Steven Meeks.
"Hmm," he hummed, the two still arm-in-arm as they came up to the town after close to an hour of walking "and what of Mr. Meeks? I do wonder what his original poem will be. Heartbreaking, perhaps, or - if it were simply a scientific comparison, not poem at all." (y/n) lightly tapped her mentored shoulder with a small paperback novel she'd been reading that day.
"I'll have you know, sir," she said playfully "That Steven Meeks is indeed a poet, although not in the tradition sense of the world." The older gentleman looked at her pointedly and she blushed under his gaze.
"A poet, hm?" he pondered aloud, letting her step first into the bookstore before following "We shall see." (y/n) turned to stick her tongue out at him from behind a shelf of leather-bound classics, earning a hearty laugh that made her spirit soar.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Upon walking back up the forest road to Welton Academy, arms laden heavy with newly-purchased worlds of ink and paper, (y/n) was quickly summoned by none other than The Dead Poets society.
"Oh, (y/n) thank God," Charlie pants "those two won't shut up about their radio and I think their genius is rubbing off on me." he slung his arm around her shoulder before peering into the brown paper bag she clutched onto so protectively.
"Hey, watch it!" she chastised, squirming out of his embrace "These are brand-new and much more valuable to me than coffee so I suggest you stay away if you cherish breathing ." The boys took her warning and each took a step back from the girl - still in her plaid skirt and Welton blazer - who was glaring at them each before failing to disguise her smile.
"Only joking, loves." she pat Todd on the head, trying to reassure the boy who looked most hurt. Meeks watched on in agony; agony that stemmed from the lack of logic explaining why he could hardly breathe when she sat next time him, or smiled when he heard her accent in the halls. Shaking the notion from his head, he stepped forward to timidly interrupt (y/n)'s conversation with Neil, who seemed to be one of her best friends in the group. Him and Knox, Meeks noticed.
"Hey, um," he began "Pitts and I are testing out our hi-fi system today on top of the watchtower while the guys are doing their rowing, wanna come with?" she smiled broadly, showing off teeth that were touched by yellow, as a result of her unyielding caffeine addiction.
"Sure! Any chance to listen to music, I'll take. Let's go to my dorm first, I've got to change!"
"Oh, how's it hanging, Mr. K?" Knox starts offhandedly, drawing attention away from the Latin duo and onto the older gentlemen. Each of the boys mumble responses to the conversation, leaving Meeks and (y/n) to say goodbye ad head off towards the dormitories, Pitts following a safe distance behind.
"How do you think that's going to turn out?" Cameron juts his chin out towards the two walking across the quad, laughing and jostling around. Neil let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.
"This is Meeks, you guys. How do you think it's going to turn out?" Charlie taunted.
"Ah, boys" Keating started quietly, eyes crinkled from years of grins and laughter, "that girl, is a poet. And whether or not 'it' works out, is up to them. The best we can do is admire what love we hope to find." At this Todd's blue eyes lift from the ground up to meet with Neil's, who was already staring at him with eyes the color to match tree bark. The two shared a small smile and similar patches of red flushed their cheeks before Mr. Nolan blew the horn, signaling the beginning of rowing for the day.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Take a power train in two!" Nolan yells through the Welton megaphone at the boys rowing in the lake. Sprinkled across the vast green space of campus were boys finishing up homework studies, participating in their extracurriculars, or, in (y/n)'s case - abandoning soccer to help two friends build an illegal radio.
Overlooking the main faculty building on the clocktower, was a spiral with terracotta shingles overlapping one another and brick walls about knee high -the perfect spot for sneaking illicit activities. On this spiral, not too far from the lake but not close enough to be in sight, were three students. The tallest, Pitts, was helping (y/n) to balance precariously to the right, trying to get a signal from the makeshift antenna the third student, Steven Meeks, had built.
"I swear, if you drop my and I fall to my death," (y/n) shuddered from her perch, looking down at the dark-haired boy "I will come back and haunt the rest of your days." The boy rolled his eyes.
"C'mon, (y/n), I won't drop you. Promise." Pitts defended himself and continued holding the girl around the waist, with her consent for the sake of science, nothing more. The weather had turned gray, perfect for reading in (y/n)'s opinion, so she had gotten dressed in loose khaki pleated trousers and a vintage green sweater she was sure belonged to her Granddad.
"We got it!" Meeks shouted "Pittsie! (y/n)! We got it" The two scrambled down the ladder, bright and anticipating smiles on their faces.
"Paul Anka. Paul Anka. Paul Anka." the lone girl had her eyes closed and fingers crossed, eyelashes delicately kissing her cheeks. Meeks had to tear his eyes away to fiddle with the machine to get a better signal.
"Radio Free America." the boy's brown eyes shone with pride at his invention from behind his glasses as he spoke mischievously. It was not Paul Anka, rather Wanda Jackson. (y/n) shrugged because music to hear was a lifeline, no matter the artist. She sat for a minute, watching Meeks try to fine-tune the signal. Today he wore a navy beanie which covered his gorgeous auburn hair much to (y/n)'s dismay, but she had to admit - the color was truly lovely on him. The little freckles like constellations on his face stood out more, she figured that one could count them, if one wished - which she definitely did not.
Pitts extended a hand to his best friend, who took it with vigor and placed the listening gear over his ears. (y/n) smiled as she watched her friends take part in a goofy dance together, holding hands and spinning around. She sat comfortably on the brick walls as they relished in the moment, a feeling that she couldn't quite place churning in her belly. Meeks looked over to her, face flushed from the movement.
"Dance with us!" he requests, holding out a hand for her to take. She laughed and stood up.
"Aw, but I could see you shake it from much better from where I was sitting!" she groaned, pretending that hated the thought of dancing with him. Which she didn't. Gently, he grabbed her hands and they both started jumping and letting the music dictate their movements, twisting at the middle. Pitts had the music on his earphones and was off in his own little world, leaving more room for them.
(y/n) gasped and held back a squeal when Meeks suddenly spun her around, colors blending together like they were going down the drain. When he came back into focus, they were both adorning twin pairs of shit-eating grins, as if it were only the two of them in the entire world.
"Steven Meeks," she cooed, pulling him closer as they did some form of inarticulate square dance "you've got moves." he blushed, the contrast delicious between his pale skin and dark eyes.
"Only for you." he responds quietly before spinning her around again. This time, neither could contain they half-drunk on life laughter, before finally growing tired and simply swaying to the music together. And so, time stood still, if only for a moment.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: ANDERPERRY guys come ON i can't believe i get to write a part of their story because AAAAAa.
Also, i want meeks and (y/n) to have a "ship" name to be used by charlie in future chapters... ideas?
lovelovelove you all! we're almost at 1k reads and i'm so grateful :3