[fic] dead poets society - Hold Me Tight and Tell Me You'll Miss Me (What Dreams May Come Remix)
Title: Hold Me Tight and Tell Me You'll Miss Me (What Dreams May Come Remix)
Fandom: Dead Poets Society
Characters/Pairing: Neil/Todd
Rating: G
Length: ~1400
Summary: Todd's living the dream.
Notes: A remix of harmonyangel's awesome Perchance to Dream. Written for Remix 2011.
When Todd wakes up, he's distant and despondent.
"Are you okay?" Neil asks as he pours Todd a coffee and slides it gently across the scrubbed-wood table.
"Bad dreams," is all Todd will say, and though he's quiet through breakfast, he leans close against Neil until long after their coffee and toast are gone.
***
It's the first snow of the season and a thick blanket of white disguises the city they're still learning the shape of. Neil and Todd don hats and coats and scarves and walk to the park. The sidewalks have already been shoveled and stomped down by morning commuters, but large swathes of Central Park remain untouched. They meander along the paths, taking it all in, before the childish joy bubbling underneath breaks through and Neil grabs Todd's hat and takes off, laughing, through the snow.
Todd follows, of course. He always follows Neil. There's not even a question, not even a hesitation. He's laughing just as hard, halfheartedly shouting about how cold his ears are, until he trips. He goes sliding to his knees facing a pond and he's suddenly intensely dizzy. He wants to throw up, he wants to sob, he wants to run away and he doesn't know why. Instead, he stays there, frozen and shaking, until Neil stops laughing, stops fleeing, and instead runs towards Todd as fast as the snow will allow.
"Todd! Todd!" He shakes Todd's shoulders until the world slams back, cold and sharp and present and Todd sucks a deep breath into his lungs as if he's just surfaced from a dive into the lake.
"Sorry," Todd mumbles. "Sorry, sorry. I don't know what happened."
He thinks he could know what happened if he thinks about it hard enough, but whenever he tries to grasp the thought, it slips away.
He lets it go and lets Neil pull him to his feet. They walk home in silence and by the time they're back in their neighborhood, the feel has almost entirely disappeared.
Almost.
***
Sometimes, when Todd is on the verge of sleep, the soft cotton sheets and heavy down duvet feel more like the thin linen of the dorms in Welton. It's a momentarily feeling of scratchy blankets permeated with a smell like saltwater, but it haunts him for hours afterward.
***
Todd's not unhappy. Todd's the opposite of unhappy. Todd spends dreamy days writing poems and wandering around the city of his dreams with a man he loves more than he thought possible. They take in the sights of the city, learn all the back streets and what bakeries have the best pastries and what pizzerias are worth their snuff. They're regulars at corner cafes and in bookstores, forging connections with people who would never turn their backs because Neil and Todd stand a little closer than normal roommates would, making friends that would never betray Neil and Todd for their own gain. New York is a vibrant, beautiful community of artists that make up a home that Todd never could have imagined.
As they order their usual for lunch from a favorite deli, Todd watches, entranced, as a small child climbs up on a table while his parents sort out the check. The boy stares right at Todd and Todd stares back.
"Todd... Todd."
Todd looks up at Neil, who is holding out their sandwiches and gesturing for Todd to choose a table.
"Are you okay?" he asks as they sit down. He reaches across the table and presses his palm to Todd's forehead. "You've been a little odd lately."
"I'm fine," Todd insists and, satisfied that Todd has no fever, Neil sits back. "It's just... do you ever think about Welton?"
"Not really," Neil says blithely.
"Yeah," Todd says, glancing at the door as the little boy and his parents return to the street, "me either."
***
"Sometimes I have a dream," Todd says, dazed and half asleep, sprawled across the bed. He must be tired or drunk or sick. He can't focus on anything but the hazy light from the lap to his left. "I dream that we're back at Welton and instead of running away that night, that night that everything changed... instead of running away, you go down to your father's study and--"
"Ssssh," a voice says soothingly. "I never did. I never would. I ran away and I came and got you and we left that place. That's how it happened. I'd never leave you like that."
Todd rolls over and squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the taste of bile in the back of his throat.
***
Neil's paid his dues off Broadway and so far off Broadway that Todd was afraid to go to the show on his own. He's put in his time and made the right connections and after just six years, he's treading the boards on a Broadway stage. He's going to do well, to go far. Everyone says it. Todd clips every review out of the newspaper and keeps them in a tin in his desk. Neil scoffs, embarrassed, even after all this time, but Todd likes the reminder that Neil's here with him, following his heart, seizing the day. Mr. Keating's come to see the show, with tears in his eyes, and Todd knows that he and Neil have made their mentor proud. It means more to him than he can put into words.
It's not a cheap evening out, however, and though they're far from starving artists, they're not far enough that Todd can indulge in watching Neil as often as he'd like. Sometimes, though, when there are cancellations, the staff of the theatre let him slip inside for the second act.
The fatherly usher who's taken a shine to Todd, Michael, leads him to a seat in the very back of the mezzanine. Todd doesn't mind sitting so far away; it's better that Neil doesn't see him, anyway. He likes to watch without the embarrassment of knowing that someone is watching him watch.
He's having trouble concentrating tonight, though. Every time he closes his eyes, even for a moment, he's back in the auditorium at Henley Hall, listening to Neil recite Shakespeare. When he opens his eyes, the world is fuzzy around the edges. There's an odd double quality to the stage in front of him, a buzzing in his ears. He can feel his friends at either side of him, even though he's sitting alone in the back row.
"You all right, son?" Michael asks, and Todd opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a soft, wet sound. "Goodness, let's get you into the lobby, get some air."
Todd can't respond, lets Michael drag him away, turning his head every which way because he swears he can see Mr. Perry out of the corner of his eye, coming to take Neil away, coming to take him away forever. He has to stop it, but he has no strength left.
When the door to the lobby opens, everything is bright and white and he can't move. There's noise and commotion, the sound of metal clattering to the floor and someone shouting for a doctor. He pulls away from Michael, tries to pull away, but the grip on his arm--on both his arms, on both his wrists--won't let him move more than a few inches. He manages a hoarse, frightened cry of frustration, but his body won't listen to him, like it's being held back, and everything is wrong wrong wrong Neil isn't there, he's not within reach, and Todd knew that after he found Neil again he never should have let him out of his sight but he did, he's so stupid, Neil's gone--
There's a sharp pain in his arm and he feels warm all over. The brightness fades.
***
When Todd wakes up, he's distant and despondent.
"Are you okay?" Neil asks once Todd makes his way to the table. Neil passes him a cup of coffee.
"Bad dreams," Todd says quietly, trying to shake the last of them from his head. It's no use lingering on them. His life is perfect. It's everything he's ever wanted and there's no point in dwelling on the shadows in the back of his mind. No point in dwelling when he's living the dream.
Fandom: Dead Poets Society
Characters/Pairing: Neil/Todd
Rating: G
Length: ~1400
Summary: Todd's living the dream.
Notes: A remix of harmonyangel's awesome Perchance to Dream. Written for Remix 2011.
When Todd wakes up, he's distant and despondent.
"Are you okay?" Neil asks as he pours Todd a coffee and slides it gently across the scrubbed-wood table.
"Bad dreams," is all Todd will say, and though he's quiet through breakfast, he leans close against Neil until long after their coffee and toast are gone.
***
It's the first snow of the season and a thick blanket of white disguises the city they're still learning the shape of. Neil and Todd don hats and coats and scarves and walk to the park. The sidewalks have already been shoveled and stomped down by morning commuters, but large swathes of Central Park remain untouched. They meander along the paths, taking it all in, before the childish joy bubbling underneath breaks through and Neil grabs Todd's hat and takes off, laughing, through the snow.
Todd follows, of course. He always follows Neil. There's not even a question, not even a hesitation. He's laughing just as hard, halfheartedly shouting about how cold his ears are, until he trips. He goes sliding to his knees facing a pond and he's suddenly intensely dizzy. He wants to throw up, he wants to sob, he wants to run away and he doesn't know why. Instead, he stays there, frozen and shaking, until Neil stops laughing, stops fleeing, and instead runs towards Todd as fast as the snow will allow.
"Todd! Todd!" He shakes Todd's shoulders until the world slams back, cold and sharp and present and Todd sucks a deep breath into his lungs as if he's just surfaced from a dive into the lake.
"Sorry," Todd mumbles. "Sorry, sorry. I don't know what happened."
He thinks he could know what happened if he thinks about it hard enough, but whenever he tries to grasp the thought, it slips away.
He lets it go and lets Neil pull him to his feet. They walk home in silence and by the time they're back in their neighborhood, the feel has almost entirely disappeared.
Almost.
***
Sometimes, when Todd is on the verge of sleep, the soft cotton sheets and heavy down duvet feel more like the thin linen of the dorms in Welton. It's a momentarily feeling of scratchy blankets permeated with a smell like saltwater, but it haunts him for hours afterward.
***
Todd's not unhappy. Todd's the opposite of unhappy. Todd spends dreamy days writing poems and wandering around the city of his dreams with a man he loves more than he thought possible. They take in the sights of the city, learn all the back streets and what bakeries have the best pastries and what pizzerias are worth their snuff. They're regulars at corner cafes and in bookstores, forging connections with people who would never turn their backs because Neil and Todd stand a little closer than normal roommates would, making friends that would never betray Neil and Todd for their own gain. New York is a vibrant, beautiful community of artists that make up a home that Todd never could have imagined.
As they order their usual for lunch from a favorite deli, Todd watches, entranced, as a small child climbs up on a table while his parents sort out the check. The boy stares right at Todd and Todd stares back.
"Todd... Todd."
Todd looks up at Neil, who is holding out their sandwiches and gesturing for Todd to choose a table.
"Are you okay?" he asks as they sit down. He reaches across the table and presses his palm to Todd's forehead. "You've been a little odd lately."
"I'm fine," Todd insists and, satisfied that Todd has no fever, Neil sits back. "It's just... do you ever think about Welton?"
"Not really," Neil says blithely.
"Yeah," Todd says, glancing at the door as the little boy and his parents return to the street, "me either."
***
"Sometimes I have a dream," Todd says, dazed and half asleep, sprawled across the bed. He must be tired or drunk or sick. He can't focus on anything but the hazy light from the lap to his left. "I dream that we're back at Welton and instead of running away that night, that night that everything changed... instead of running away, you go down to your father's study and--"
"Ssssh," a voice says soothingly. "I never did. I never would. I ran away and I came and got you and we left that place. That's how it happened. I'd never leave you like that."
Todd rolls over and squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the taste of bile in the back of his throat.
***
Neil's paid his dues off Broadway and so far off Broadway that Todd was afraid to go to the show on his own. He's put in his time and made the right connections and after just six years, he's treading the boards on a Broadway stage. He's going to do well, to go far. Everyone says it. Todd clips every review out of the newspaper and keeps them in a tin in his desk. Neil scoffs, embarrassed, even after all this time, but Todd likes the reminder that Neil's here with him, following his heart, seizing the day. Mr. Keating's come to see the show, with tears in his eyes, and Todd knows that he and Neil have made their mentor proud. It means more to him than he can put into words.
It's not a cheap evening out, however, and though they're far from starving artists, they're not far enough that Todd can indulge in watching Neil as often as he'd like. Sometimes, though, when there are cancellations, the staff of the theatre let him slip inside for the second act.
The fatherly usher who's taken a shine to Todd, Michael, leads him to a seat in the very back of the mezzanine. Todd doesn't mind sitting so far away; it's better that Neil doesn't see him, anyway. He likes to watch without the embarrassment of knowing that someone is watching him watch.
He's having trouble concentrating tonight, though. Every time he closes his eyes, even for a moment, he's back in the auditorium at Henley Hall, listening to Neil recite Shakespeare. When he opens his eyes, the world is fuzzy around the edges. There's an odd double quality to the stage in front of him, a buzzing in his ears. He can feel his friends at either side of him, even though he's sitting alone in the back row.
"You all right, son?" Michael asks, and Todd opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a soft, wet sound. "Goodness, let's get you into the lobby, get some air."
Todd can't respond, lets Michael drag him away, turning his head every which way because he swears he can see Mr. Perry out of the corner of his eye, coming to take Neil away, coming to take him away forever. He has to stop it, but he has no strength left.
When the door to the lobby opens, everything is bright and white and he can't move. There's noise and commotion, the sound of metal clattering to the floor and someone shouting for a doctor. He pulls away from Michael, tries to pull away, but the grip on his arm--on both his arms, on both his wrists--won't let him move more than a few inches. He manages a hoarse, frightened cry of frustration, but his body won't listen to him, like it's being held back, and everything is wrong wrong wrong Neil isn't there, he's not within reach, and Todd knew that after he found Neil again he never should have let him out of his sight but he did, he's so stupid, Neil's gone--
There's a sharp pain in his arm and he feels warm all over. The brightness fades.
***
When Todd wakes up, he's distant and despondent.
"Are you okay?" Neil asks once Todd makes his way to the table. Neil passes him a cup of coffee.
"Bad dreams," Todd says quietly, trying to shake the last of them from his head. It's no use lingering on them. His life is perfect. It's everything he's ever wanted and there's no point in dwelling on the shadows in the back of his mind. No point in dwelling when he's living the dream.