Work Text:
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
The play was over.
For a moment, Neil soared. He wasn't Neil Perry, straight A, ivy track student. He was Puck. He was living Puck's life, breathing Puck's words, voicing Puck's words, those words written by Shakespeare so long ago.
He was amazing.
He looked at his friends -correction- he looked at his fellow poets. He could see the gleam in their eyes. The awe, the pride, the overwhelming happiness. He caught Todd's eye, grinning ear to ear and matched the sheer adoration there with his own, something warm and funny stirring in his stomach.
This is what it meant to be alive.
Then he looked back and saw his father.
Thomas Perry was glaring, fuming beneath the thin veneer of politeness he painted on each day. Todd felt sick. There was no way he was getting off easy this time.
For a moment, Neil was angry too. This was his moment! He hadn't been sneaking off to parties or chasing girls. Acting was his passion and a creditable extra curricular activity. It was what he wanted to do his whole life and nothing about that should be shamed. Knowing what he wanted to do was a feat itself.
As if in a daze, he wandered back stage as the curtain fell, leaving him standing in the darkness with the cast.
The poets popped up immediately, surrounding him with cheers as he made his way outside. Mr. Keating reached out to praise him, "Neil! You were wonderful. I-," stopping short as he followed Neil's sober gaze to Mr. Perry and the lonely black car.
Mr. Perry glared sinisterly at Neil, biting out the words "Get. In. The. Car. Now!" with a vitriolic mixture of disgust, disappointment and anger that Neil almost gagged then and there.
Instead, he kept his head down, climbing into the car with his eyes downcast and replied quietly, "Yes, sir."
Distantly, he was aware of his friends pleading, shouting, of Mr Keating attempting in vain to negotiate. He couldn't bear to look back and see his friend's worried faces. He felt sure he'd cry.
The car ride home was bitter and silent.
Neil resisted reliving the play in his mind, not wanting to taint the taste of his success with sour atmosphere in the car.
Neil looked at the big house looming with dread, imagining going inside and returning to life before Keating and Todd and their society. Before he'd known what being alive felt like.
When they got in the door, Neil suddenly realised that he hadn't seen his mother. His father hadn't taken her to the play and she wasn't making her way to the door to greet them.
His father grabbed his arm and pulled sharply, forcing a groan out of Neil. He was lead from the door, to the hall, to his father's office.
It was a room he'd never spent much time in. As a kid, his father didn't want him in the way and his mother always made sure he played safely out of earshot. Then as he got older, the office came to symbolise everything he didn't want with its varnished walls, compulsively tidy displays and mountains and mountains of paperwork.
"Take off your shirt. Lean against the table and put down that crow's nest before I throw it out the window."
Neil obeyed mindlessly, leaning against the table while his eyes wondered to the robin on the windowsill and the snow beginning to fall softly on the tree branches outside.
He didn't count the lashes but some part of him knew that he'd never been given this many ever before and that tears were streaming down his face.
His father's voice boomed loudly and thinned to a knife's edge as he hit him.
"Disappointment"
"Your poor mother"
"Shame"
"Worthless"
"Waste of time"
"Regret"
"You will never get anywhere in life like this. You disgust me. After all I've done for you. Everything you've ever asked for I've given to you. Sent you to the best schools. Sacrificed to make your life better. And this. This is what I get!"
Time lapsed.
His hands were shaking.
His mother entered at last, hurrying as best she could in heels, panic rising in her voice.
Somehow or another she put herself between them, crying already. She sent her husband out of the office and took her son's hand gently, murmuring soft, soothing words. They walked up the stairs slowly, Neil's legs wobbly and uncertain beneath him.
She guided him to sit on his bed, squeezing his hand before letting go and leaving. She returned quickly with a damp cloth, some kind of cream and gauze.
Gently as possible she cleaned the marks on his back, talking the entire time but Neil could only make out words like "love" and "sorry" above the roaring silence in his ears.
Eventually, she guided him to lie down on his side, tucking the blankets around him and crouching to his level.
He loved his mom.
"Neil, honey. You're going back to Welton tomorrow. Alright? And you can act in any play you want. I'll talk with your father. You're not in any trouble. Sleep tight."
He grabbed her hand before she could go, eyes bright and damp.
"I love you, mom."
She smiled, her eyes creasing kindly.
"I love you too, Neil."
Before he could fall asleep, he heard the raised voices from his parent's room. It was rare that his mother would go against his father like this. Ever. Neil had never seen his father hit his mother but still felt as if she must be afraid too. At least a little bit.
He thought about his father's old threat of military school but knew that, until this, it was the one thing his mother wouldn't stand for. She said he was sensitive and gentle and that she wouldn't let anyone take that away from him. That he was special.
The voices fell to whispers and he smiled a little, knowing his mother had won this.
The next morning, he woke with a groan. He ached. He ached everywhere. It felt like someone had taken the skin on his back and ran over it. He hid his face in the pillow, taking deep, shaky breaths.
Hesitantly, he let his mind run over the events of last night. The success of the play. The feeling of soaring above the audience. The look on his friends' faces. Poets. The way he felt when he saw Todd's face. His father's anger. Mr Keating's pride. His friends' pleading. Mr Keating trying to reason. His father's anger, his words, the belt. The view of the Winter scene outside the window. His mother's kindness.
His father entered the room before he could try to process any of this.
Neil stayed perfectly still, holding his breath.
His father talked quietly, the red hot anger has dissipated, leaving only annoyance and disappointment.
"Neil, I'm ashamed of you. If you don't cut out this acting business, you'll come to no good. What did you think you were doing anyway? You can't act. You're just a teenage boy with an inflated ego who thinks he can act while prancing around with a birds nest on his head like a fool. The school knows nothing about your transgression because, against my better judgement, I'm protecting you. You can even act if you must but just know that everyone in that audience was laughing at you. I was there. I saw it. Your friends just pitied you and weren't strong enough to say what they really thought. You're not talented, Neil. You never were. you're just hopeless. Let what I'm saying sink in. It's for your own good. You don't want everyone laughing at you, do you? You'll be feeling last night for a long, long time and it's no harm. Right. No more lying about. Get up and I'll drive you back. You'll be back before breakfast. Don't just sit there and look at me. Move."
Neil's eyes were glassy and unfocused. He got dressed without ever really seeing the clothes and sat beside his father in the car wordlessly.
They drove back in the silence they'd driven in last night. Except, Neil had never felt so unsure of himself before. Ever.
His father's parting words at the gate were, "Remember, Neil, no more making a fool of yourself."
Neil had nodded. Finding his tongue with a weak, "yes, sir."
At this time of the morning, the grounds of Welton were bare and quiet. Neil made it to his and Todd's room without seeing another person.
Inside, Todd was sleeping quietly but the blankets were tangled and his pillow was on the floor which was the antithesis of his usual compulsive cleanliness.
Neil laid down on top of his bed covers and looked at the ceiling. 24 hours he'd been asleep here, filled with excitement for the play at Henley Hall and, admittedly, more than a little guilty about disobeying his father and lying to Mr Keating. He'd had to do it. He'd just had to!
Neil shifted to take the weight off his back, stifling a groan at the pain that was quickly becoming worse and worse. He turned on his side, facing away from Todd.
He knew it must look bad, if it felt this bad. Worse, he was going to have to resign himself to someone seeing. Not even Todd had been able to secure privacy here and he was by far the most withdrawn of them.
"Neil? Wait - what - Neil?!"
Ah, Todd had woken up. Yay.
"Good morning," he greeted softly.
"Are you okay? When did you get back? What happened with your father? Are you alright, Neil?"
Neil didn't know what to say. He wasn't alright, not really.
"Only about half an hour ago, if that."
Todd stayed silent, waiting.
"My dad is so mad, Todd."
Neil hated the way his voice broke.
"I'm sorry." Todd offered quietly.
Neil suddenly felt like sobbing, giving into the waves of sadness and pain and anger and hurt that racked him.
As if he could sense Neil's pain Todd moved quietly, padding across the floor to Neil's bed. He sat down wordlessly at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the wall.
Neil held his breath, shocked by Todd, always so shy and hesitant, being so bold.
"I can tell the others for you. If you want, I mean."
"Thanks," Neil whispered.
Sometimes he really did love Todd.
What would his father say to that?
What would his mother say to that?
What would Todd say to that?
Todd stayed still, waiting again for Neil to open up.
Internally, Neil counted to ten. He couldn't put this off forever and Todd was the best person to start with. Well, maybe Charlie too.
"Todd . . ."
"Yeah?"
Neil sat up shakily, feeling unusually weak.
"You've got to see this but don't . . . don't say . . ."
He sighed.
"Just look, okay?"
Todd nodded, "Sure, Neill. I'll look."
Neil looked across the floor at the lone sock stranded under Todd's bed and slowly took off his jumper, before carefully peeling off his shirt.
Todd made a small, pained sound as he took in the damage.
So it did look bad then.
A piece of bloody gauze fell from his clothes to the ground and he flinched. Just barely, but he knew Todd knew without looking.
Todd breathed deeply and tried for words.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah. My mom stopped him, though. She put something on my back too and made him bring me back here."
"Is there anything I can do?"
He wanted to ask Todd to tell the others for him, like he was a little kid. He always felt like a little kid after being with his parents.
He shook his head.
"I can tell the others? Get them to help maybe."
"There's nothing they can do."
Todd was silent for a minute and they breathed quietly together, both minds processing and spinning.
"Neil, I think we've got to tell someone. I mean . . . your back . . .," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself and Neil wanted to tell him to slow down, take his time but his throat was all closed up and he just felt so bad, "Neil, you need to go to the nurse. That gauze isn't going to stay on and - and"
Todd breathed out deliberately before whispering.
"It's bad, Neil. It's all . . . swollen and bruised and I think I see welts. Actually, um. Are you in pain?"
"Yeah, but I'll be okay. What if the nurse calls social services?"
"Neil, you're the greatest actor I've ever seen. If you say Nolan did it, the nurse will believe you. She sees it everyday so it's not like she cares."
Neil swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"She could give you something for the pain."
"I . . . I could go with you. If you wanted. Maybe."
Neil loved this boy.
He took a breath and assumed his air of being okay.
"Can you tell the others first, please? Actually, just come with me when I tell them and then we can go to the nurse."
Todd nodded at once, "Yeah, definitely. Let me get dressed first."
Neil pulled on his own shirt and jumper again, closing his eyes against the pain.
Before he really knew what he was doing, he was walking into Charlie's dorm, Todd glued to his side like a faithful old dog. Charlie startled as if he'd seen a ghost and Neil gave his best grin, "Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Sitting on his bed, he gestured casually to the door.
"Go get the others. I'm only saying this once."
Charlie, still speechless and half-asleep stumbled out the door obediently.
To his right, Todd snorted quietly as the door closed.
"That was amazing."
Charlie returned with the others in record time and maybe it was the time of the morning, the lack of sleep or the fact that Neil was sitting in front of them, pale and shaken but grinning like anything but they all kept quiet for once.
Neil told it in bullet points, aiming for brevity. His dad had taken him home. He was alright. His dad was mad and had hurt Neil's back but he was fine and he'd be staying on at Welton. Besides, he could act anyway. This time with permission.
Before they could ask questions, he nudged Todd and got up, resigned to the fact that they'd seen the way he'd stumbled for a moment and announced that he was going to the nurse with Todd and that he'd be back later.
"You've got one question each when I get back so make sure it's a good one!"