Dead Poets Society Stories

Todd Anderson x Reader - Answer Me This (Part 3)

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WARNING: Scenes do deal with suicide and near a suicide attempt

Caroline

~

Another treacherous day. Yet, the grief and agony were subdued by Todd, as always. We sustained a mutually beneficial friendship. Support was dispensed from either of us the moment the other requested it. Of course, being the love-struck individual I am, I would reassure Todd with emotional or physical comfort the instant before he sought after it. Almost as if I knew what he thought, I rushed to embrace him or offer the polished pearls I made for him which included my words or my actions.

At any moment I see tears shield his stone eyes from the deprived world, I did what I had the power to do; whether we were in a more secluded area where I would hug him or whether we were with the Dead Poets and I bestowed a reassuring smile. Though, what could I assure him of? Neil Perry is gone and unlike the silk or the sandpaper of the poetry we would create, we can't have access to him anymore. Our poetry was always written down save for the poetic phrases Todd and Neil spoke yet were unaware of.

Do we realize the poetry we speak every day?

Do we realize the hundred emotions we share in a single word?

Todd and I agreed to go to a nearby park this afternoon. Todd seemed to begin feeling a connection with nature recently. Or- no, he always was in tune with the precipitation that traversed, the clouds that bundled, the wind that flowed, the plants that outstood. Just like the other day, when I saw Todd gazing far out into the birch tree forest the night the Dead Poets and I gathered after Neil's funeral, he was once again admiring the scene before him just out my dorm room window. He planted his palms on the windowsill, letting his neck dip a little, with his fossil-gray short sleeve clinging lightly to his back. His hair tracked in many directions. While it was not uniform, I had a fondness for how the locks made a chaos particularly intriguing. The ginger strewn about his scalp took every perspective and stood out with a confident stance. One strand was reaching for his cheek from behind his ear, and out of impulse I stepped forward and using my ring finger, I hooked the mischievous curl and drew it back, tucking it behind his warm ear.

Ohhhhh goodness.

I utterly drifted into a possibly unconscious state and acted without knowing what my body might do. And now, I touched Todd Anderson, my-

My friend-

Without clear reason. All I had was a touch that most likely made him uncomfortable and appalled. I shriveled at my own behavior. How would he react? Surely that just repelled him from our friendly bond. If he knew what I was pondering over his hair about then I bet he would immediately leave this dorm. Maybe he would never come back.

With all these apprehensive thoughts scrambling around my mind, I lost control of my finger. It felt numb. I remained standing a foot behind him with my finger the pillar keeping his hair in position. Who knows how long I stood there like a fool.

As my finger finished its curl to his earlobe and the hair strand returned to its rightful position, Todd eased into his body like his soul had dove back into his vessel after frolicking with the calm wind. His head tilted slightly towards my hand. His jaw began to angle my way and displayed a wondrous sight for me; Todd was serene. His eyelids were nestled together and his lips were not portraying a distress of any sort. The divot of his cheek was contoured in the gentle light from my window. He turned his head back to face the window and stood himself from the modest angle he was bent at.