If We Ever Meet Again.

Prologue

{{Todd's POV}}

Why was nobody else concerned? Why was nobody even mildly questioning why Neil's father had dragged him away from the end of the show so dismissively, ignoring all of us and even yelling at Mr Keating? I sighed quietly, exhaling the smoke from the cigarette that Charlie was passing around. Maybe they weren't worried because they knew that Mr Perry was just like that, and of course he'd get over it... It's not like I'd never see Neil again, he promised he'd be at the meeting tonight, and we all knew that Neil would keep his promises even if it killed him.

The longer the night went on and the more cigarettes that I'd stolen from Charlie, and the more swigs I'd had from the bottle of scotch from Charlie's little friend, Marie, the more I'd started to think that it really had killed him. I was probably just scaring myself and giving in to my paranoid delusions, convincing myself more and more that Neil's father had... killed him, or something. It was a sick thought, I know, but it was rare that Neil was so late. I was especially concerned when boys started disappearing back off to their dorms, one by one, two by two... Even Charlie's girlfriend for the night left. So, it was just me and Charlie, which I wouldn't complain about. He was quite rational sometimes, so I could confide in him about my concerns.

"Hey, Charlie?" I muttered, probably slurring a bit.

"Yeah?"

"You know... You know Mr Perry?" I was more drunk than I thought. I was kind of a lightweight when it came to drinking. It made Dalton have a little snigger to himself.

"I know of him, yeah."

"And you know that he'd kill Neil for doing the play, and then he was at the play..."

"Mhm. Get to the point, I'm tired."

"Well, do you think... Do you think he really killed Neil? For real?"

There was a pause. Then Charlie did nothing but cackle, obviously thinking I was just drunk and had worked myself into a stupor. Once he was done, he wiped a tear from his eye dramatically, stood up, placed the box of cigarettes, a box of matches, and the quarter full bottle in my lap.

"Don't drink it all at once and get a hangover, don't smoke them all in a row and make sure you actually come to bed." Charlie snorted as he turned to walk out of the cave. "Oh, and I'll see you at Neil's funeral tomorrow."

There was clear sarcasm in his voice, but the sentence still made my heart seem to palpitate. Either that or it was the smoke.

Either way, even with Charlie's oh so comforting words, I couldn't settle. I couldn't feel tired. My head was whirring and so was everything around me. Nobody in my group of friends took alcohol particularly well, no matter how much Charlie pretended to, but I was the worst. I distinctly remember being told by just about every one of my friends that I'd gotten myself quite giggly after just a few sips of something another of Daltons girls had bought, and I didn't believe them until now, when I had just myself to talk to.

"My god, I really am drunk aren't I?" I said into the dark, empty cave, lighting another cigarette.

Time slowly burnt away just like all the tobacco and paper in the box that Charlie gave me, and just like all the burning liquid in the bottle. It made me feel almost unrecognisably myself. The buttery aftertaste of the drink was masked by an ashy coating of smoke, which I was thankful for. I would've felt fine if I was with everyone else, but when I was by myself in this state, I felt almost hysterical. I chuckled to myself whenever anything funny came into my head, which was getting increasingly more frequent.

However, this was somewhat a scary thing. It did cause me some distress when I only heard footsteps a couple of metres away from the cave when I could've heard them crunching in the snow from much further away. My giggling did cease and I gasped at the shadowy figure, but I relaxed at the shine of a flashlight and a familiar, friendly voice.

"Todd? Is that you?"

It was Neil. The one and only.

I stood in excitement, not noticing as the bottle fell out of my lap and smashed on the ground.

"Oh, you're drunk." He said with a weak chuckle. "Todd, I need to talk to you. I know this isn't the best time; you're intoxicated and you haven't slept in hours, but I have to tell you.."

"Tell me what?"

"Well, quite a lot really... I'm not coming back to Welton, that's the first thing." He said, peering at the ground. "I'm being enrolled in Braighton Military School, then I'm going to Harvard. I'm not happy about it, at all, I tried all I could to stay here..." He trailed off, taking a few steps closer to me. My face dropped, and I must've looked as melancholy as he did, if not more so.
"I really tried, Todd... I don't want to leave Welton and I definitely don't want to go to Military School. It's ten more years... But honestly, I could deal with that if it was just the other guys I'd have to worry about leaving. I don't want to leave you, Todd."

He didn't mean what I thought he meant. He can't of. So, my immediate reaction was to shut him down.

"Of course not, I don't want you to go either. You're my best friend and I--"

"No, you're getting the wrong end of the stick. It's you. I really can't think of a world without you, and here I am, and I might be saying goodbye for the last time ever." He said, sounding slightly exasperated, trying so desperately to get his point across. "I don't know how to say what I need to. You're good with words, you know how to... compose them, make them sing together. You said I make people listen to me, and when in life, if someone can't put words together they aren't worth listening to. If they can put words together, then they should be listened to..." He babbled on for a while, but then stopped, his eyebrows furrowed. "My point is proven, I struggle to sound socially acceptable. But the point I was trying to make is that the two things which we can both do are both important to succeed, so they should be together... They go together." He finished quietly, embarrassed by his awful usage of words. I tried to repeat what he said, but simpler.

"What you're saying is, that we should just be together because we are both important to each other?"

"In short, yes."

"Well it's true, best friends do need each other."

I was interrupted by a distressed groan.

"Todd, you aren't listening to me! Listen to me, read between the lines a bit!" He raised his voice, seeming mildly annoyed which shut me up. "I don't know how to say it without upsetting the whole of America. Some people say what I'm about to is a sin,
some would just say it's disgusting,
some people would start a riot and some people would step right up and punch me for it, as would the rest of the world... So I don't know how to say it." He said, placing his hands on my shoulders. He noticed my coat was soaking wet from the drenched walls and floor of the cave. He took off his own coat and draped it over my shoulders, muttering.

"Some people may say that this is one way of saying it. Some people may say this is another.." He took both of my hands in his, rubbing them in his own to keep them warm. "I've said it a thousand times to you and you have to me, but neither of us have quite got the wording right."

"What do you mean?" I whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I mean... If we ever meet again, I promise I'll remind you. If we ever meet again, I promise I'll remind you every day in case you forget tonight." He grinned, glancing at the broken, empty bottle on the floor before placing his forehead on mine. "If we ever meet again, I'll tell you every day what I'm going to tell you now, and you don't have to say it back if you don't want to, but I have to tell you before I leave. I love you, Todd Anderson." He stared directly into my eyes as he spoke, before lifting his head to press a kiss on my forehead, seeming to drag it out as long as he could. He moved his head back down for his eyes to click with mine again, and he smiled, slowly and reluctantly moving back from me, his fingers slowly drifting off of mine, the bells chiming five a.m in their general monotone. I just stared at him as he left, and he walked slowly backwards out of the cave to see me for as long as he could before he turned on his heel and ran. I think he was crying. Once I had snapped out of the shock of what just happened, I started too, and just before my voice cracked, I called out to the running figure of my best friend, and apparently also the boy who loved me, replicating what he told me.

"I love you too, Neil Perry!"

I couldn't help but smile at the idea of him telling me that every day after ten years had passed... But I didn't see him
after ten years. Not after eleven. At twelve years I started to lose hope. He just disappeared.