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It had become part of Neil’s routine at this point. A bad habit he didn’t know if he could drop. He would eat dinner, smoke with Charlie, brush his teeth, and climb into his bed just across from Todd’s.
He would wait to hear soft snores and to see the shadow of lean shoulders rising and falling on his wall before he would flip around and let himself look. Really look.
He loses himself in the reflection of pale moonlight on soft skin. The smooth slope of a nose. Moon dyed hair. Neil thinks Todd looks younger when he’s asleep. He thinks he looks happy.
The longer he looks, the more he wants to push his hands through tangled gold hair. The more he wants to leave strawberry and grape-colored bruises on clean skin. The more he wants to trace the shape of Todd’s jaw with his fingers.
Neil lets out a sound from the pit of his chest, turning back around to face the wall. He knows that it’s too late to be thinking like this, he shouldn’t be thinking like this at all. Especially not about Todd. Not about a boy. Neil knows what waits for boys like him.
He’s not even in Hell yet, but he swears he can already feel it, the taste of blood in his mouth already too prevalent and the flames licking up his palms and curling around his wrists too realistic.
He copes in the only way he knows how, no matter how unhealthy Charlie and Knox say it is. He doesn’t think it’s bad, it’s just small acts of self-punishment, like, turning the fan on too high during winter, or calling his father, or sleeping with no pillows, because he doesn’t deserve them.
The rain beats hard on the window, God’s last, futile, attempt to shut Neil up. It’s not fair, he thinks. He’s always been devout. He's never skipped service and avoided sinning at all costs.
He knows it’s not fair, because the type of love he wants is biblical. One that is violent, and bloody, and painful, and all-encompassing. One that will be written about for years. One they will call a tragedy. Neil wants to age gracefully with love. He wants to heal.
A sob rips itself from his chest, and his hand flies to cover his mouth and stifle the noise. Neil’s tears fall onto the bare mattress below him, pillows having been thrown across the room once he was sure Todd had fallen asleep.
His shoulders tense. The rain gets louder. His heart beats harder. He wonders briefly if Todd can hear it.
Another sob falls past his lips, quieter this time. It’s too much for three AM, so Neil thinks about God. He thinks about death. He takes a deep breath. The water fills his lungs.
“Neil?” Todd asks, voice low and cracking as he wakes up. “Are you okay?”
“Go back to sleep,” Neil tries, voice breaking. He’s out of Todd’s sight, and their room is dark, but Neil still wipes the tears away to save face. “I’m fine.”
“Neil,” Todd sighs, the sound of rustling blankets and a squeaking mattress nearly cutting him off. “You help me all the time. Can’t you let me do the same?”
“It’s alright,” Neil whispers. “I can handle it.”
They’re both quiet for a while, the rain outside and the whirring of Neil’s desk fan providing the only noise.
“No,” Todd says, mimicking their conversation from the day before. Neil almost laughs, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “No, you can’t.”
Neil listens as Todd gets out of his bed, the sound of socked feet hitting the floor feel like gunshots ringing through Neil’s head. Everything is too loud. Too much.
Todd bumps into a few things on the short walk to Neil’s side of the room, textbooks and poetry collections scattered from the radiator to the closet. Neil hears Todd mumbling quietly to himself, vague curses and sighs that would usually go unnoticed filling their room.
“God it’s— Neil, you’re going to catch a cold,” Todd whispers, turning off the fan when he gets over to the desk it sits on. “It’s twenty degrees outside, come on,”
The second the fan is off, Neil misses the cold burn against his skin, but Todd says his name and it feels like fire, burning him from the inside out. It’s an awful reminder of what’s to come.
Todd sits down on the side of Neil’s bed, carefully tucking himself into the back curve of Neil’s knees. It’s not a new thing, the closeness between them, but it’s started hurting more and more.
Neil doesn’t look away from his wall, too afraid of what he would do if he had to look at Todd right now, classically handsome and drenched in moonlight. He’s suddenly and intensely aware that Todd can see that his pillows are gone. He’s not dumb, he’ll know something's up.
“You’re— Jesus,” Todd says, pulling off his sweatshirt and straightening the t-shirt below. “Sit up and put this on. Please. You’re freezing.”
He places his bundled sweatshirt in front of Neil’s face, knowing he wouldn’t take it unless it was right in front of him. Neil is set on fire. He’s burning. He’s about to turn to ash. Father, forgive him.
Neil complies, pushing himself up so his back molds into the cold metal bed frame. He still doesn’t glance over at Todd, but he quickly pulls his sweatshirt over his bare torso. The smell of it overtakes him, and he thinks he’ll cry again. Orange and bergamot. Laundry detergent. The ocean.
“What’s wrong?” Todd whispers, clearly trying his hardest to get Neil to look towards him. He takes Neil’s hand, cold and nearly lifeless. “Please, talk to me.”
Neil mindlessly plays with Todd’s fingers, eyes glazed over as he stares at their hands. A few more tears fall down onto his thin blanket. He envies the comatose on days like this.
“Neil—” Todd’s voice shakes.
“Do you believe in God?” Neil interrupts, finally making eye contact. It’s midnight ocean blue and cinnamon sticks colliding, and he feels like he’s going to fall through the floor straight to eternal damnation.
“Why?” Todd asks, voice earnest and low.
“Do you?” Neil asks again, repositioning to be closer to Todd, against his better judgment. He drops Todd’s hand and drags his own down his face.
“No,” Todd answers, quietly. “I don’t think I do anymore.”
Todd’s words hang silent between them for a moment, cut off by a sniffle from Neil as he softens his gaze towards the blond.
“Why do you ask?” Todd asks again, tracing his thumb over the outline of Neil’s knee. Neil can’t help but stare.
“I think I’m going to hell,” Neil confesses, a soft sob pushing past his lips. He looks back up at Todd and chuckles. “And I can’t do anything about it.”
“Oh, Neil,” Todd sighs, scooting closer and putting his hands on Neil’s shoulders. “You’re not going to hell. You’re— you’re the best person I know. If there’s a God, he wouldn’t send you there.”
Neil gives a sad smile before dropping his gaze to his hands. He’s been picking at the skin around his nails without realizing it for a while, a habit he picked up from his father.
“I’ve— I’m sick, Todd,” Neil whispers.
“What do you mean? Are you feeling okay?” Todd asks, fearfully. He fusses over Neil for a second, pressing a cold hand to a colder forehead to check for a fever. Neil pushes Todd’s hand away, shaking his head.
“No, no. Not like that. I’m— I…” Neil trails off. How is he supposed to explain this to Todd? Todd isn’t like him, Todd is good. He won’t understand. He’ll get up and leave, just like everyone else should. Like most everyone else did. “I’m… fuck… I can’t… say it.”
“Can you write it down?” Todd asks, softly. Neil shakes his head. “Okay, that’s okay. Is there another way you can tell me?”
This is the stupidest form of suicide, Neil thinks. It has to be, because whatever this is, it isn’t even killing him. He’s not even sure he has a name for the feeling, too hesitant and unwilling to use the word love for fear of the consequences.
But it has to be. There’s no other word that fits. It hits him all at once. Crushed under the weight of Todd’s gaze, he lets himself admit it. He’s in love with Todd, he’s been in love with Todd, probably since the day they met.
He’s been in love with quiet mumbling, sloppy handwriting, and shy stares; with soft laughter, bruised knuckles, and soccer cleats; with marked-up history textbooks, ocean eyes, and wrinkled blue sweaters.
He realizes that falling for Todd was inevitable, a cruel trick from God or a test of faith. He realizes that as sure as the sun will rise in the east and set in the west, he was going to fall in love. His father would be so proud.
“You’ll hate me,” Neil whispers, eyes flicking down to Todd’s lips for half a second before he indulges himself. He reaches out and traces the curve of the other's jaw with the pads of his fingers.
He’s done it before, quickly and under the guise of getting dirt off Todd’s face after soccer, but never like this. He’s never let himself set a softer intention behind it. But he figures that if he’s going to Hell anyway, he should try and make the most of his own life while he can. Carpe fucking Diem.
“Never,” Todd inhales, his words getting softer and more breathy by the second. Neil watches his eyes flutter closed for half a second. “Never, ever, ever.”
Before Neil’s brain can properly stop him, he’s closing the short distance between them and abandoning all sense of religious morals he once possessed. Todd stills beneath him.
He pulls Todd in closer by the jaw, a silent plea for him to do something. To pull away. To kiss back. To beat Neil until he’s black and blue and bloody and lying alone on their bedroom floor. Neil would take it all, too. He would take anything Todd gives him, even if it's knocking his teeth loose. But Todd doesn’t do any of that. He stays perfectly still, hands still resting lightly on Neil's shoulders.
Neil takes the hint and pulls away. He looks anywhere but Todd’s face, feeling a messy sob claw its way up his throat. He’s sure he looks a mess, and he silently thanks God that their room is still dark.
He shouldn’t have done that. He knew it was a bad idea, but he did it anyway. Fuck, that was a bad idea. Todd isn’t like him, he tells himself. He’s not, and Neil has ruined the best friendship he’s ever had in a quick ten seconds.
“Oh,” Todd breathes, stunned.
Neil tries laughing, but it gets caught in his throat and comes out like a mangled cry. Todd doesn’t say anything more, just pushes Neil’s head to face him. He smiles sheepishly, leaning back in.
Neil isn’t sure how, but Todd’s hands end up pushing at his hips and his waist, and his own hand is back by Todd’s jaw and making its way through the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s burnt all the way to the edge now, reduced to ash blown away in the wind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
“Tell me to stop,” Neil mumbles against Todd’s lips, moving to kiss the spot below the blond's ear, fumbling with the collar of his t-shirt. “Tell me you hate this.”
“No,” Todd gasps, his grip on Neil’s waist tightening. He maneuvers himself so that he’s basically on top of the taller, leaning into him completely.
Neil trails down to Todd’s collarbone, leaving the same bruises he fantasized about less than an hour ago.
“Tell me you’re not like me,” Neil breathes, dragging his hand down the front of Todd’s shirt, resting on the top of his thigh.
“No,” Todd whines. “M'not a liar.”
Neil smiles softly against Todd’s neck, pulling off and looking into his eyes. He sees Todd smile, his face dimly light from the moonlight seeping through the slats. He reaches his hand up and pushes fool's gold hair out of Todd’s eyes.
They’re both breathing heavily, dumb grins on their faces and lips kissed red. Todd leans down and presses a soft kiss into Neil’s hair.
This is how he dies: in the arms of a quiet poet on a rainy Vermont night. He’s not scared, for once. Not of Hell, not of his father, not of himself.
“You’re going to be okay,” Todd whispers, holding Neil’s face and smiling down at him. “You know how I know?”
“How?” Neil asks, voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I’m going to help you, for once,” Todd laughs, beaming down at Neil. “You Goddamn martyr.” He leans in and pecks Neil lightly on the lips.
He feels like he’s going to burst. The tears have ceased at this point, and all he can focus on is the feeling of Todd’s thumb rubbing beneath his eye, breaking up the dried tears.
“It’s hard,” Todd sighs, giving a soft smile to the boy below him. “And it never really goes away— that fear. But it does get easier to live with, believe me. You’re strong, Neil. Stronger than me. You’ll get through this. We’ll do it together.”
“I’m in love with you,” Neil confesses, a small, lovestruck, smile painted across his face. He doesn’t think before saying it, just lets it fall from his tongue like truth is always supposed to.
If it’s even possible, Todd’s smile grows larger. He lets out a small, breathy laugh and kisses Neil again. If Neil was the poet out of the two of them, he may have better words to describe it. The only ones he can think of are sickly sweet and sugar.
“You and me,” Todd grins as he pulls away. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Promise?” Neil asks, leaning his head into Todd’s hand as he steadies his breath.
“Yeah,” Todd smiles, leaning back in. “I do.”