song of the chapter: apple pie by lizzy mcapline
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It's funny, thought the girl as she gazed dreamily out at the early-morning sky from 10,000 feet above ground, how different everything looks from so high. To her left, her mother absentmindedly rubbed her daughter's sweater-clad shoulder as she flipped through a gardening magazine.
"I love you," (y/n) murmured to the older woman, snuggling in closer for some last-minute affection before chaos incarnate, otherwise known as moving into a dorm, struck.
"Oh, my girl," her mother pretended that there wasn't actually tears in her eyes, but (y/n) knew better. After all, she was pretending too. Mr. Keating on her mother's other side reached over and took her hand in his, their matching wedding bands glinting in the electric lights of the plane.
"Cornell is a beautiful school," he spoke gently and with a fatherly sort of reassurance. "you're going to do quite well. I'm sure everyone will be competing for your affection." (y/n) chuckled, just a little sadly.
She knew he meant nothing profound by his comment, but she couldn't stop the flitters of memories in her mind's eye; flashes of ridiculous spectacles and hair the color of Autumn leaves.
Her heart twanged, but she pulled a tight smile before once again turning her attention to the window.
Here she was, nearly two years after having - briefly - attended Welton Academy, returning back to America to attend university. Of course, her top choice would have been Princeton for its wonderous literature studies, but they had exceptionally strict standards based on gender (rivaling those of Welton) that didn't allow her to attend.
Still, Cornell's literature programs were supposedly magnificent - based on Keating's rather extensive connections, certain names with evaded (y/n)'s memory. Throughout most of her time back in London finishing up high school, she'd kept in touch with the Dead Poets Society.
Charlie's parents had been rather adamant that he finished his education at their local high school, which he did begrudgingly but accomplished nonetheless. As of his last letter, a few months ago, he was travelling with a group of socialites - that more or less sounded like a cult dressed in finery to his friend.
Neil and Todd were still very much in love, as shown by their various photographs included in their letters. It brought so much joy to (y/n)'s heart, seeing their love blossom even though hers had not exactly seen the same fate.
But that's exactly what it was, wasn't it? Fate. If it was meant to be, then it would have been.
Neil's acting had caught the eye of many large productions, and his plan was to attend Juillard, on full scholarships due to his unspeakably brilliant talent. Todd was not entirely sure how he wanted to spend his life, but they apparently were renting a small apartment a few blocks from Neil's institution, with a new addition to their little family. Her name was Margaret, and she was a beautiful tabby cat - Neil's anniversary gift to Todd the year prior.
As for Cameron, (y/n) couldn't care less. Even thinking about him gave her a headache, so much so that she winced. He was surely off to some pretentious, sexist Ivy League university by now, getting ready for his life of monotony behind a desk.
Pitts, unfortunately, was not moving on to higher education. His grades were never superb to be begin with, but it warmed (y/n)'s heart to know that he hadn't taken it too harshly, and had intentions of starting his own business after attending trade school.
Similarly to Cameron, (y/n) didn't think very much about Knox. Briefly, in his last letter, Charlie had mentioned that Knox and Chris had recently split off, for reasons unclear to him. But (y/n) had a feeling Chris finally came to realize that her lover was not really who she thought he was.
And Steven Meeks?
Well, (y/n) wasn't very sure about him. Out of all of her lovely friends, she'd written and called him less than originally planned out. For a while, at the start, they had their weekly over-the-phone date nights - reflecting on their days and telling each other stories.
Then, slowly, the letters and calls stopped - both teenagers having too much academic work on their plates to pursue romance. And then that summer before graduation year, (y/n) flew down, invited by Mr. Perry to spend a week with his family and a few of her friends.
That was awkward, she recalled with a wistful smile on her face. It was nice, to see him again and revisit their Dead Poets Society traditions even if their numbers were infinitely smaller than what they were used to before it all fell apart that fateful December.
Seeing him there, in person and not just hearing his voice - it was all she'd dreamed of for months. She'd packed a perfect summer wardrobe, dolled herself up and made sure to bring his favorite books so that they could read together.
And yet, it still felt - off. He'd grown so much - his jawline was sharper now, and he carried with him an air of confidence she'd never seen before. Now, his last name didn't quite fit who he was. It was a little intimidating, seeing how he'd changed so much - but it did not change her admiration and feelings for him.
It was incredible, to have borne witness to how he grew up. Even if she'd only seen his handwriting and heard his laughter, until that summer.
Come to think of it, she was not even certain of what university he was attending, or how his summer break had went, or exams, or anything from the past few months.
She'd sent him a letter before the summer holidays, to his Welton address, and his response had never come to her mother's flat in London.
Although, who's to say it never existed?
That's what she'd been telling herself all these weeks; that perhaps the letter had gotten mixed up, sent to the wrong address, or maybe ruined en route to its destination.
Time and time again, she told herself it wasn't that he'd stopped thinking of her.
The psychologist study books she had on her bookshelf had said that repeating certain mantras causes them to become your reality, but she began to have her doubts about its truth.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The broad, stone façade of Cornell loomed over her as they stepped out of the cab, hauling various suitcases and boxes - and a cardboard flat of her little plant babies.
Her mother shut the door and grabbed a laundry basket of linens before beaming that loving smile at her daughter.
"Are you ready, honey?" she asked tentatively, able to tell her daughter was in fact, quite anxious in the presence of scholars - real, actual scholars who study literature and classics and ancient languages.
(y/n) took a deep breath before replying. "Definitely not." Her laughter rang out, amidst the overlapping layers of chatter and goodbyes from parents to their beloved children. Mr. Keating put an arm around her shoulders, in the wonderful fatherly best friend way of his.
"Ah," he tsked as they approached the wide cobblestone road that led up to her dormitory building. "no one ever truly is. But you, my dear - well, you're the exception. Now, onward!"
It didn't take (y/n) long to feel settled in at her new home. Originally, she thought it would always feel foreign and alien, but it soon became a cozy little refuge. The final goodbye to her parents was painful, after they spent a few days touring the city and helping her prepare for the upcoming semester.
Her mother cried - just a little, and thus (y/n) teared up as well. Keating, blessedly, was very used to his girls and offered some comfort. Standing on the curb as they drove off - not to be seen again until Christmas break - (y/n) felt a newfound sense of individuality, of pride in becoming her own person.
The entire idea terrified her. But alas, she would not run from fate.
And it was a good thing, too, that she didn't run from fate - lest she would never have known that just across campus, a boy with wavy hair of Autumn leaves and a dimpled smile she missed so dearly, was saying goodbye to his very own family.
It's funny - how perfectly everything falls into place when it seems as if it's fallen apart forever.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"(y/n)?" His voice called out in disbelief, having seen the girl strolling early one morning to grab some coffee at a nearby café that she'd fallen in love with.
It stopped her dead in her tracks, and so she spun on her heel on leaf-littered ground to face him. He stood in the early sunlight, the color of his hair even more amplified in its golden rays. Even from here, she could see his surprise at seeing her here.
She smiled kindly, as one would a stranger in a supermarket, and took a few steps towards him so they didn't have to shout and disturb students who might be taking advantage of the Saturday morning to get some extra sleep.
"Hello," she waved sheepishly, seeing a blush creep up his cheeks "er - how are you? I didn't know you were attending." The girl said, at the same time Meeks spoke up and asked,
"So, what's your major?" A classic, from most of the boys she met here.
"Oh!" she perked up at this "Literature." He nodded thoughtfully, eyeing her with an analytical expression she hadn't ever seen.
"I had a feeling you'd say that," he shrugged "i'm in the anthropology department." She smiled and tilted her head.
"I thought you wanted to do economics and banking?" He shook his head lightly, with a smile on his face.
"I met a girl who changed my mind." (y/n) couldn't stop the blush that crept onto her face at the thought of him still caring for her. She thought for a minute.
"We've become strangers, haven't we?" she said sadly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Even this felt different... but still right.
"Maybe," he sighed, rubbing his thumb on her knuckles. "So, coffee?" The girl chuckled at his offer.
"You know me too well," That smile that was reserved wholly for him was bright on her face now, highlighted in the sunlight. "are you asking me out on a date? A proper one?"
The pair started strolling towards the girl's original destination, hands together and hearts beating faster than they were used to - with happiness or nervousness, neither could tell.
"I just can't wait to make you fall for me again." He confessed, glancing sideways at her - only to find she was already looking at him.
"Ah," she tsked jokingly "well, it wasn't too hard the first time, no?" This time, it was him who laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the cobblestone streets and the café windows.
"I never stopped, you know."
"Hm?" she was a little confused, considering he'd ceased writing to her for so long and their love seemed to have fallen apart.
"Loving you, of course." His voice was like music, speaking those beautiful, treacherous four words.
However, instead of responding, the girl pulled him closer to put her head on his shoulder, snuggling into his arm comfortably. She realized then, that Cornell would be more home to her than she originally thought.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: I had to do A LOT of research for this chapter actually oh my god. so originally, i was hoping (y/n) could have gone to Yale with Meeks and the dudes HOWEVER i learned that Yale and most Ivy League schools (minus cornell) actually did not accept female students until 1968 - 1974. which is interesting, but i love keeping things (sorta) realistic with the time this tory is set in.
i am a firm believer in fate and all the universe stuff so i was very happy to include it in the second installation of epilogues!
I would have made all 3 chapters into just one but it would have been like 8k words so i figured y'all would feel better about reading a few shorter chapters than one huge one! whoo, reader engagement hehe.
what do you guys think? seriously.