Chapter Text
The front door creaked, and its sound echoed in the silent night. The faint porch lamp offered such dim illumination that the weather-beaten facade of the house remained mostly shrouded in darkness. Though the house showed the scars of time, seven young people gathered before it, their smiles radiant and their gazes determined.
“Home, sweet home,” said Neil.
“It certainly has potential,” offered Charlie with his signature smirk.
“Mr. Keating is truly an angel. I would hang his picture in our living room just to show how grateful we are to him.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Knoxious," said Charlie.
Neil's unwavering smile widened, his gaze drifting to the boy who had been his roommate at Welton Academy until the day they finally graduated. Todd seemed just as happy. Neil noticed how he let steam escape his lips from the crisp autumn air when Charlie's response drew a chuckle from him, but then his blue eyes met his and his smile widened as well.
“We should head back inside,” Meeks suggested, shivering slightly. ”It’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, it's also getting late,” Cameron added. “We should determine sleeping arrangements and—"
“Sleep?” Charlie interrupted, incredulous. “Nobody’s sleeping tonight.”
“Come on, Charlie,” Pitts chimed in. “We have to get up early tomorrow morning to—"
“No!” Charlie cut him off. “Tonight is when we step onto our battlefield for the first time! It’s our inaugural day to tell our parents to shove it and take control to rewrite the damn narrative of our lives. And you guys are thinking about bedtime? What the fuck happened to carpe diem?"
“Exactly, carpe diem,” Cameron concurred. “Not carpe noctem.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cameron, must you always be such a—?”
Neil intervened before tensions could escalate further.
"We can decide on the rooms right now and then have a small celebration party. Those who want to sleep can do so whenever they like afterwards. Does that work for all of you?” he proposed, and everyone nodded. “Great.”
As they made their way back inside, the floorboards creaked underfoot. The living room was certainly a display of resourcefulness, furnished with an assortment of repurposed sofas and chairs. The sofas, worn and sagging, had cushions with mismatched covers that had seen better days. The walls, once painted a vivid hue, now showed faded colored stains, chipped, and peeling like a tapestry of memories. In one corner of the room, a bookshelf leaned slightly to one side, laden with books (including “Five Centuries of Verse”). And in the center of it all was a coffee table, where Meeks placed a sheet of paper with a roughly sketched distribution of each room.
“There are four bedrooms in total,” the ginger explained, pointing to the rough second-floor plan. “Three of them are larger, intended for pairs, while one is smaller.”
“I’ll share a room with Neil,” Todd blurted out, sending a quick and nervous glance toward Neil, his ears turning red. “I mean, if that’s okay with you, of course!”
Neil responded with a warm smile, as the idea hadn’t crossed his mind to share a room with anyone else.
“Of course it is, dummy. Let's take the one down the hall.”
“Well, I'd rather cut off my arm than room with Charlie again,” Cameron quipped dryly.
“It's not like I'm dying to share with you either, you prick,” Charlie retorted, getting up and taking a seat on the armrest of the couch where Overstreet was seated. “We already know that Meeks and Pitts are thick as thieves, so how about rooming with me, Knoxious?”
“Don't take this the wrong way, Charlie,” Knox began with a somewhat sheepish smile. “You know I love you, but I’ve seen the living conditions you endured at Hellton, and I’d prefer a less… untidy roommate.”
Charlie rolled his eyes as Cameron grinned smugly.
“Fine, I’ll take the smaller room. But let’s get to the real business.”
“Wait!” Charlie halted in his tracks as Cameron retrieved a chalkboard from one of the moving boxes. Names and days of the week were meticulously written. Neil had no idea how the chalk hadn't rubbed off. “Since it's a lot of work to maintain a house, I've decided that we can divide up the chores to make it more bearable. I’ve outlined the tasks, but it’s open to adjustments.”
Everyone sought their names on the board.
“Why am I assigned the most tasks?” Dalton protested.
“Well, you’re currently not engaged in anything else, so you have the most available time among us,” Cameron explained matter-of-factly.
“But I'm here because I thought it would be fun to live with the poets,” said Charlie with a frown. “Not to be a fucking housekeeper.”
“Lucky you,” Cameron replied, “for choosing to live with us for fun, unlike most of us who were forced out of our homes by our parents.”
The rest exchanged uneasy glances, sensing tension building.
“Go fuck yourself, Cameron. I'm doing my share, aren't I?”
“Sure, but for you, it’s like a group sleepover, not an unwavering commitment to pursue your dreams. If things get tough for us tomorrow, you'd still have a roof over your head to come back to.”
“What are you implying?”
“Isn't it clear? I wonder if today truly marks our first step in defying our parents. It suggests that yours still support you because you didn’t take the same leap of faith as the rest of us,” Cameron continued, undeterred by Charlie’s scowl. “You’re the loudest among us, preaching rebellion and seizing the day like a parrot, but in the end, you’re just noise. Your parents still view you as a future banker because you lacked the courage when it counted.”
“If that were true, wouldn’t I be pursuing a banking degree right now?”
“With a family as wealthy as the Daltons, their beloved son could afford a gap year to enjoy time in a shack with friends,” Cameron suggested.
“You think I’m here just for fun?” questioned Charlie.
“You’ve said as much, haven’t you?”
“Well, for your information, you tight-ass motherfucke—"
Neil knew Charlie well enough to anticipate his witty retorts and his penchant for having the last word even if it meant adding fuel to the fire. He had to intervene and prevent the argument from going any further. If it dragged on, the snowball would grow so big that it would engulf them all and ruin what was supposed to be one of the most joyous moments of their lives. He shouldn't let it—
“Hey, g-guys, let's all just take a deep breath and calm down, okay?”
To Neil's surprise, it was Todd who stepped in.
“Alright,” Cameron grumbled, though his arms remained crossed.
“Shit, no, you’re right. Sorry, guys. If I'm here to have fun, then why the fuck is the mood so down, huh?” Charlie’s smile reappeared, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Meeksie, turn up the music and let’s get this party started.”
“Yes, sir!”
Meeks quickly adjusted the radio, a secret creation of Pitts and him during their Welton days, and cranked up the volume. It was a more developed version, working without headphones and featuring deck speakers. Though no music expert, Neil recognized the lively tune as Tina Turner’s “It’s Gonna Work Out Fine.”
“Did you bring the beer?” Knox asked Charlie.
Charlie lit a cigarette, wearing a smirk, “Do bears shit in the woods, my dear Knoxious?”
The clinking of beer bottles set the mood as they toasted their accomplishments: the new house and the redefined Dead Poets Society. Before the frothy amber liquid flowed down their throats, they all cheered a carpe diem and guzzled every last drop from their bottles.
Neil, the free spirit of the group, was the first to let loose. With a beer bottle in hand and a twinkle in his eye, he climbed onto the couch, his feet moving to the beat of his favorite songs after casually tossing his shoes aside. His laughter filled the room as he spun and wiggled, his inhibitions melting with each step.
Charlie, his best friend since childhood, refused to be outdone. With an impish grin, he hopped onto the coffee table, completely disregarding the table's sturdiness, much to Pitts' discomfort. Charlie danced wildly, more enthusiastic than graceful, but perfectly attuned to the infectious melody.
Todd, more of a quiet soul, took a seat beside Neil, his bottle of beer forgotten. He gazed at the brown-haired boy with a mixture of adoration and perhaps a hint of longing. Lost in the sight of his roommate twirling and swaying with carefree abandon, Todd then occasionally sipped from his beer, his eyes locked on Neil’s free spirit, which illuminated the room.
Cameron lingered at the party for a while but still appeared bothered by something. After finishing his second bottle of beer, he rose from his seat and approached Todd.
“I’m heading to my room to get some sleep,” he informed him.
Todd, momentarily tearing his gaze from Neil, asked, “Are you sure you can sleep through all the noise? It won’t be long before they start singing and such.”
Cameron responded with a grin, pulling a pair of noise-canceling earplugs from his yellowish coat.
“Always one step ahead, Anderson.”
With a parting nod and an amused smile, Todd wished Cameron a good night before he ascended the stairs. The blond quickly returned his attention to where Neil stood.
Neil's magnetic pull on those around him was undeniable. His every move had the power to captivate onlookers, making anyone watching him eager for his next step. Todd found himself unable to divert his attention elsewhere. But his heart skipped a beat and he nearly choked on his drink when Neil's eyes met his; his little smile was so bright and his brown eyes so warm that they reminded him of heaven and melted chocolate.
With a hearty swig of his drink, Neil plopped down beside Todd and asked, “Not in the mood for dancing?”
“More like too tired from carrying all those boxes to even move.”
“Moving is never a cakewalk,” Neil concurred. “Maybe we should head to bed now as well. Tomorrow, we’ll have to do some grocery shopping, and if we want to snag the best deals, we’ll have to brave the early-morning rush of determined old ladies waiting for the supermarket to open.”
Todd blushed but chuckled. “Shall we?”
Neil cast a glance at their friends: Charlie was still dancing, this time coaxing Meeks to join him. Pitts was valiantly trying to prevent a potential table disaster, claiming that the coffee table would undoubtedly crack under the weight of two people while Knox lay sprawled on another couch, sporting a dazed grin and an almost-empty bottle dangerously tilted.
Neil got on his feet, smiling as he extended a hand to help Todd up from the couch.
“They’ll be just fine.”
As the night wore on, Neil and Todd quietly made their exit from the small party. They ascended the creaky staircase, arriving at their shared dormitory and instantly choosing the same sides of the beds as at Welton. These beds were larger and more comfortable than the ones at the academy, and although the room seemed somewhat empty, it wouldn't take long for them to transform it into a home. In all honesty, it already felt more like home than anything else in their entire lives.
Neil faced the wall, both of them preparing to get some sleep in the stillness of the room, interrupted only by the distant sounds of laughter and celebration downstairs.
He couldn’t guess if Todd was already asleep or just lost in thought, but he whispered after some minutes of quiet, “Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” admitted Todd with a throaty laugh.
“Yeah, me too…” Neil replied, turning around.
Their gazes met and, in that moment, they shared a deep understanding of each other's fears and desires. It was as if they were standing on the edge of a precipice and could not see the bottom. Uncertainty, fear of failure, disillusionment... hovered in the air, they were all too suffocating.
“But I know I’m where I’m supposed to be," said Todd.
Neil smiled, his brown eyes radiating the tenderness that washed over him whenever he looked at Todd Anderson.
“You’re right, this is where we're all meant to be,” the brown-haired boy affirmed. “We’ve got the poets, we’ve got each other, and that’s what truly matters.”
Despite their limitations — most of their savings were tied up in the house, not everyone among them held stable jobs or pursued their desired careers at that moment, some family ties had been sharply severed — they were all committed to walking the bumpy road together. The poets found themselves in the place where their dreams could take root, and they were confident that it would all come together sooner or later. Nothing was impossible. Neil was a firm believer of that.
“Good night, Todd,” the young actor reached over to turn off the lamp.
“Good night, Neil,” the writer whispered, closing his eyes. A smile crept across his lips as he added, “Prepare to haggle with the early birds for the best deals tomorrow morning.”
Neil’s laughter echoed in the room’s darkness.