𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 19

ENGULFED by praise and congratulations, Neil only had one thing on his mind: Mildred Meets. Amongst a myriad of people applauding him excitably, his heart stung at the sight of the girl he loved, turning her back on him.

The second the double doors shut, even over the loud applause that sounded like peddles and hail tapping against a roof, he was sure he heard them clearly.

So he cordially accepted the shaking of hands backstage and hugs and kisses on cheeks, then excused himself. He beelined through the cast and crew shrouding him, and went to the one place he was sure Milly would find solace.

And there she was.

Stood with her head hanging low and her hands holding the vanity table edge she leant against.

His heart ached for her in a new way. "What did he say to you?"

Her head shot up and, as if electrified with life, she pushed herself away from the table, meeting him halfway. "I tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn't give," she rambles.

He didn't care about that, cradling her face in his hands like he was holding the entire world. "But are you alright?"

"No," she chokes out. "You can't keep your promise. How was that not enough? Seeing you out there and how incredible you are. How is that not enough for him?"

Neil wished more than anything he could answer that question himself.

"I'm sorry."

Neil's eyes flickered up, not realising they had fallen in the first place.

"I'm no help. I'm only making things worse."

"No," he says earnestly. "This is my burden and mine alone."

Then he kissed the very edge of her mouth, followed by her cheek, and held her in his arms. His hands cupped the back of her head entirely like they were made to hold it.

The two were immersed in silence.

Milly enjoyed the way he smelt vaguely of peppermint and body mist, and she enjoyed how he ran his hand down her hair. Even if it would only last a moment, she divided half of her brain and designated it as a space where she could remember these things she enjoyed about him.

Time was running out. And much to her dismay, Neil was running away with it.

"I'm sorry, Neil," a voice says.

Milly and Neil pulled away from one another. Milly practically jumping, all the while Neil took his time, too despaired to be startled.

Milly hid her head to one side, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand—they felt never ending—and Neil looked over at Mrs Woolworth, gaging the teenagers. She had never seen them this way—so broken and despondent.

The woman—with her off the shoulder black dress, pearl earrings and necklace, neatly curled dark hair—was hesitant. Confused.

But her confusion withered away, overrun by an influx of sympathy.

Her head tilted, looking between either of them before landing her eyes finally on Neil. "Your father, he's..."

Neil nod, his lips drawing to a thin line.

She knew he understood. She knew he understood well before she opened her mouth to say anything at all.

She looked over hesitantly at the young girl refusing to turn her head, but knew better than to speak her piece. Instead, she respectively let it be, leaving the room.

On their own once again, Neil gently turned Milly by the shoulders, holding onto either one so she had no choice but to look at him.

"I made you a promise and I intend to keep it—" he says determinedly.

"It's out of your hands."

Maybe she's right, he considered. But every promise she ever made him, she kept. He owed that much to her.

He picked up his hand from her shoulder, caressing the back of it down her face plagued with hopelessness.

"Milly," he laughs through his nose, admiring her in all of her entirely. His eyes wandered her face, tracing them back to her honeysuckle doe eyes. "My Milly."

Her body was invaded by warmth.

"It starts and ends with you and me," he promises sternly. "No matter what."

In the film, he was the hopeless one, so certain that there was no way out. But that same hopelessness coursed through her. He was the one with the answers. He was the one who knew what to do.

She felt frozen to the spot when he got his things. His hooded coat, his bag.

When he left the room, he didn't say a word. He knew she wouldn't hear it.

And he was right. Just not because she was suffocated in her own sorrow. It was because she was too busy telling herself that she couldn't be the hopeless one. She couldn't let Neil think that he was on his own in this.

This burden isn't his and his alone. What belongs to him, belongs to her. Especially the heaviest weight on his shoulders. If he sank under the boulder, she would sink with him through and through.

So she got on her own coat and raced outside. She shoved her way through the crowded lobby, people calling out to each other and laughing.

But she ignored it all.

"Mr Perry!" she exclaimed the moment snowflakes kissed her skin.

She shoved her way past the members of the Dead Poets Society, Pitts and Steven and then Todd and Charlie.

"Mr Perry!"

Then she was past Professor Keating, steps forward in front of the group behind her.

"Mr Perry, stop!"

Neil was already getting in the car, keeping his head down the way Milly once was. But Mr Perry stopped in front of his vehicle that he was in process of walking around.

He glared with the heat of a thousand suns. "You've said quite enough, young lady."

"Like you listened to a word!" she scolds.

He lowered his pointed hand. And his conviction faltered for so much as a second under the scrutiny of the teenage boys, their teacher and two young girls Chris and Milly.

His eyes fell on the brunette, standing further forward than the rest. "Goodnight."

When he turned away to round the car and head into the driver's seat, Milly muttered a faint, "Hardly."

Because she had seen better nights. Better nights where the boy she loved wasn't sitting in the passenger seat of his father's car like a prisoner being carried away to their execution.

But at the very least, he smiled with that boyish side smile she couldn't resist. And with his eyes centred on her, he raised his token of her love—the white glove.

Mr Perry started the car and took off, and it was hard to believe that a boy driven to his execution could remain so hopeful.

"What happened?" Charlie asks.

The lines blurred. The ending changed.

Milly blinked twice, a smile dazing her face. But even as it faded, her passion didn't remotely falter.

She turned, staring Professor Keating dead in the eye.

"No matter what they tell you," she says, "it isn't your fault. He did this to him. Nobody else."

And she didn't explain any further, turning around to head to her car parked two vehicles down the curb.

"Milly!" Steven called, the words still reeling in Keating's head. "Milly! Wait up!"

But it was no use. She was already pulling out onto the road.