Dead Poets Society Stories

Todd Anderson x Reader - Answer Me This (Part 2)

Sorry again that it's an "x reader" but it's written in first person... :(

And sorry for taking so long to publish this one, holy cow, it's been almost 4 months :(((((

But here it is, it's finally out, hope you enjoy!

~

Dreams were wonderful last night with Todd Anderson by my side. Though we did not endeavor on physical contact after he tenderly held my shoulder, I continuously felt enveloped in his energy, assisting me off to an immaculate sleep.

My sub-conscious mind constructed a memorable dream that night; replaying that night's events from the funeral to the alluring contact we had then a dramatic yet entrancing turning point. Todd shuffled into my bed, stroked my side and whispered into my sensitive ear. He muttered everything he had evidently been retaining. Amorous, passionate, lustful feelings. Although it was a dream, the "whispers" sniped through my nervous system, striking every receptor and flooding them with a sort of pleasure.

Not sexual, but rather romantic and heartfelt.

...

But it was just a dream.

~
It was the day after this dream. The passion for Todd had dwindled, yet some fixed and caused my heart to jolt every time Todd pierced my eyes.

We reluctantly agreed to gather up Keating and the class to free rein to our sentiments. Reluctantly because Todd and I would rather our thoughts on the matter stray far away not for our contentment, but for sanity. The legacy of Neil persists, but not in the absence of agony, misery, and heartache.

Our gathering back in the Dead Poets Society cave was succory, to say the least. Charlie, Knox, Meeks, all but one relished the copious high spirits from each others' companionship. And that person was Todd. He could not seem to immerse himself in the optimism and enlivening aura the boys were emitting. His face remained carved with pain and depression. I was admittedly astonished by myself, how one could produce so many tears. Almost incessantly was I wiping tears from my frosted cheeks. Until the downhearted, charred words were spoken and replaced with sanguine inspirations, tears fell like the heavy rain of Spring. Even some boys began to water at the eyes, being moved so profoundly by the poetic expression of everyone. That was, until Charlie decided to spring up unexpectedly and pivot our direction to a more buoyant level.

"I can't, I can't see us like this anymore. Wouldn't Neil have wanted us to continue his legacy? He remained radiant through-"

... Charlie's words were imprisoned by the thriving lump in his throat, begging to liberate itself.

"... through the worst times. He wouldn't want to see us this way." Charlie's voice crumbled. "So we need to pick ourselves back up. We will NEVER forget Neil. We just need to... to continue forward, bringing him with us eternally."

And with that, the last of our tears streamed over our faces. We proceeded to hug each other, hugs that neither words nor poetry or any expression could leak. Keating took this time to bid us his goodbyes, his condolences, and his rehabilitating gaze just before he left. Keating grappled onto our makeshift rock pile to ascend out of the cave. Minutes of silence elapsed before, abruptly, Todd shuffled out of the cave himself.

"Todd, no, please. Stay with us, we're here to revive each other!"

"No," Todd strictly interrupted Charlie. "Do not follow me. I need space. Give me some time."