song of the chapter: i love you so - the walters
(y/n)'s pov...
The day following the interesting cult-like activity that took place in Neil Perry and Todd Anderson's room, the English class of Welton Academy endured a lesson like no other. (y/n), perfectly in her element, skipped alongside the boys as the entire class made their way to the soccer fields - leaving their classroom to be abandoned for the afternoon. She thanked their lucky stars that Mr. Nolan was so oblivious.
It was October, and had gradually grown colder the past month since school had began. Autumn in its entirety, had arrived long ago, and it is important to note that none of the Dead Poets Society were looking forward to the winter months in the sacred little cave.
"Now, devotees may argue that one sport or game is inherently better than another," Keating began the lesson with these words as the sweater-clad students marched behind him, kicking up vibrant-colored leaves. "For me, a sport is actually a chance to have other human beings push us to excel." He instructed them to each grab a slip of paper, which had a few words written on it.
"Mr. Meeks," he said, pointing to the boy "time to inherit the Earth." The aforementioned boy nodded and grabbed his slip of paper before beginning the line. "Mr. Pitts, rise above your name!" the tall boy flushed and grabbed his, following after his best friend.
Soon enough, each boy and the one girl had a slip to recite after kicking a soccer ball, as per Keating's instructions. Pitts went first, murmuring his portion.
"O to struggle against great odds, to face enemies undaunted." From his awkward body language, (y/n) can discern that her tall friend was indeed quite nervous after being put on the spot. Keating, it seemed, noticed this also.
"Sounds to me," he chides from the side of the field "like you're daunted! Say it like you're undaunted." Keating stressed the last word before Pitts repeated himself - this time with more bravery and gusto that even Neil would compliment. Pitts followed Keating's instructions and kicked a soccer ball to the opposite side of the field.
"Next!" Keating called, and after a few more boys had their turns, Meeks was next. Stick was given the "most important job", as Keating declared it to be, placing the round equipment pieces in front of each boy for their turns.
Somewhere before Meeks stepped up, Keating had chosen a record from (y/n)'s extensive collection - jovial classical music that she danced to alone, late at night as if someone else were there.
Meeks stepped up to recite and kick his ball. From behind, (y/n) could really look at him, beyond his adorable glasses that sometimes hid his kind, brown eyes. Even so, in the late afternoon sun, it seemed his auburn hair was almost like a halo around his freckled face and (y/n) relished in the poetry of beautiful humans.
As her eyes were observing him, he turned back in confusion to look at her. Gently, she nudged him forward, putting pressure on his shoulder blades to get him to move.
"Come on Meeks, listen to the music!" Keating, clad in a deliciously aesthetic cap, shouted while pointing to the phonograph.
"To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, roll on, float on!" the boy exclaimed loudly, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. Despite herself, (y/n) snorted at his expense. Luckily for her, the redhead never seemed to notice.
When her turn came around, (y/n) felt alive with excitement. With the music playing, Autumn atmosphere and poetry being shouted, she was certain there had never been a more romantic moment during all her time at Welton; not even the Dead Poets meetings. She recognized the words on her little slip to be from Emily Dickinson, perhaps chosen by Keating just for her.
"What I can do - I will - Though it be little as a daffodil - that I cannot - must be, unknown to possibility." Her voice reaches out louder than any of the boys before her, and the ball soars across the field, nearly hitting two boys that were fencing.
She skipped along the field to join Meeks, who was standing with the other pupils who had gone before them. She linked her arm in his and spun the two of them around.
"Lovely, no?" she chuckled at his expression of shock at her outburst.
"You seem awfully chipper, (y/n)." he notices, stopping her from spinning before she got too dizzy.
"Life just seems... pretty close to perfect, Steven, darling." she responds, pretending not to notice the boy's reaction to being called darling. Not that it was exceptionally special, for she called a great many of her friends darling almost daily.
From afar, they could see and hear Charlie yell,
"To indeed be a God!" And at his genuine performance, (y/n) whooped and clapped vigorously.
Slowly from beside her, Meeks spoke up.
"Y'know, (y/n), I'm sure you get this a lot but," he rambled, running a shaking hand through his already wind-tussled hair "I don't remember ever meeting a girl like you." (y/n) breaks out into a grin, feeling the entire energy between the two of them shift in that very moment.
"Aww, Steve you're getting soft on me!" she bumped their shoulders, earning a nervous chuckle from the taller boy. "Honestly, though, thank you - means a lot from someone like you." Meeks frowned.
"Someone like me?" he questioned and (y/n) can practically see the genius gears in his mind turning, trying to decipher what she meant.
"Yes, someone like you." she smirked knowingly and clasped her arms behind her before spinning on her heel to go stand with her mentor, Mr. Keating. She could still feel Meeks' eyes on her as she walked away.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Following the active English lesson, (y/n) walked with Keating back to the classroom to chat about their respective days and make promises to have lunch together the next day on the quad.
Upon returning to her room, (y/n) quickly changed out of the brown v-neck sweater and plaid skirt she had worn, into more comfortable evening clothes consisting of a plain cream knitted cardigan and some loose jeans. In front of the plain mirror in the bathroom, she ties up her hair with a little ribbon, pulling it into a low ponytail so it wouldn't fall in her face while she studied.
Gently, she knocked on Todd's closed door and beamed at him when he answered.
"Hi." the blonde said quietly, moving aside so that she could enter the shared space.
"Hey, Todd!" she exclaimed, jumping onto Neil's bed and making herself at home.
"So, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously "what are you doing here?" (y/n) frowned playfully, opening a battered notebook which was filled to the margins with scribbled words.
"What, do I need an excuse to hang out with a very cool guy such as yourself, hmm?" Todd stuttered an apology, but (y/n) just laughed before uncapping her fountain pen with her teeth.
"Poetry?" he gestured to the book, to which the girl nodded.
"I thought we could work on our original poems together, if you'd like." she offered quietly, as if her words were approaching a skittish kitten, which she realized was not too far off from Todd's general, lovely character.
"Sure. Okay." he said, settling back down at his desk and resuming work on the poems. After a few minutes, (y/n) spoke up after noticing the boy take a breath as if to say something before giving up with an exhale.
"We don't have to talk, you know," she told him gently. "You're, like, not an awkward person to have a silence with. It's nice, really." Todd nodded and shot her a small smile, before a commotion in the hall gathered their attention.
The two of them leaped up and nearly ran to the door, opening it to reveal Neil parading down the halls.
"I'm gonna play Puck!" he declared to the world, his entire aura full of hope and excitement, which greatly lit up the entire wing of Welton. He spun around before sauntering into his room, where Todd and (y/n) took places beside him; the boy on the bed leaning on the desk, and (y/n) perched on the desk on the other side of the room.
From outside the door, (y/n) could hear their friends still cheering, clearly ecstatic for the happiness of their beloved Neil.
"Okay, okay." Neil said to no one in particular, sitting down in front of his typewriter.
"Neil, how are you gonna do this?" Todd asks innocently, a mixture of worried for and happy for his friend.
"They need a letter of permission from my father and Mr. Nolan." he explains. Todd smiles in disbelief.
"You're not gonna write it." he semi questions and semi commands him.
"Oh, yes, I am!" the brunette boy states clearly, while (y/n) clears her throat. Neil briefly says hello before continuing his ever-so-gracious forgery.
"Look, Neil, I love you," she begins, glancing at Todd who is so focused on Neil's face. "we all do. And from what I've seen of your father..." she trails off, waving her hand to finish her sentence without being too up front.
"She's right. Neil, you're crazy." the blonde tells his friend with affection mingled with concern.
Neil simply makes another odd squawking noise, which had become commonplace for the Dead Poets Society meetings, and general life if (y/n) really thought about it. Neil's smile is infectious, spreading to Todd quickly and (y/n) can't help but smile in anticipation for what her two friends might become, together.
"Thank you, blondie!" she says, exasperated as she hopped off the desk, Mary jane's clacking on the hardwood floors. "I'll see you two later, Charlie needs help with Latin but Meeks is probably busy making out with his radio. Duty calls." she gives Todd a salute and Neil a small peck on the head before walking out and closing the door behind her.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───