Random Things that May Be Writing

The Road Less Traveled (Dead Poet's Society)

AN: I know that literally everyone who's seen this movie hates Cameron by the end, but seriously, he looks so conflicted. So, this is Cameron-centric, depressing, and ends well for everyone except our ginger main character :'D

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"Oh Captain, my Captain?"

Todd?

Cameron twisted slightly in his seat.

Todd was standing on his desk, looking terrified, yet strangely proud.

What was he thinking?

The boys had gotten into enough trouble after the administration had discovered the Dead Poets Society. They'd all been severely reprimanded, and surely faced utter hell once they returned home. Charlie had been expelled for this!

"Oh Captain, my Captain."

Knox?

They were revolting. Again.

Cameron had always been a conformist. He went with the group, supported the popular opinion, everything he could do to fit in. But even following the rebellious crowd, he couldn't break the rules. He feared the consequences.

And because of it, the rest of his friends (if he was ever considered that to them, he doubted it) had disowned him.

He just wasn't brave, nor rebellious. Or even an individual, really.

Meanwhile, people were climbing onto their desks all around him. 

First Pitts. Cameron thought he was more level-headed, but the boy always did have buried emotions from the moment they met.

Then Meeks. An overachiever not unlike him. Just bolder, and much more sly.

Then the others. Even Spaz, of never-ending nervousness was joining. 

Cameron could feel the cold space in the desk behind him.

Neil would definitely be on his desk by now. Smiling knowingly at Todd, almost peacefully. He was always the poster-child for the man who could do both. Passion and conformity.

He made the mistake of looking behind him again. And he saw another hole, perhaps the biggest one that this whole ordeal had left on him.

Charlie.

The boy would have jumped noisily onto his desk, probably yelling an obscure line of poetry simply to piss Nolan off even more.

Despite their arguments, Cameron had always admired Charlie. He didn't care about rules, or popularity. He'd always stood by his opinion, even when he was literally the only one on his side.

Cameron accepted early on that he would never achieve this. 

But, maybe he could. 

He never showed loyalty to the Poets before. He was too scared. 

Right now, though, even the meekest of the class could revolt. Even if it was shy, or stupid, they could stand for Keating.

Cameron braced a hand on his desk. He could do this.

"Sit down!"

Oh, lord. Nolan.

He couldn't do this.

As he stared at the desk, completely unsure for the first time in his life, a comfortable silence filled the room.

"Thank you, boys."

Keating. He could do this.

The redhead placed both hands on either side of his poetry book with the introduction ripped out.

Carpe Diem.

The door shut.

Cameron's fragile confidence melted in an instance.

Too late.

He'd missed it. He could have done something, anything, yet he sat there. Angry tears filled his eyes.

He hated sometimes, how useless he was.

The group sat unanimously, as if a silent voice led them.

Or perhaps the voice wasn't silent, but Cameron could not hear it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

AN: *doots "All Around Me Are Familiar Faces" on clarinet* Pleasant, isn't it? Poor boy, he just wants to fit in :'( Why am I writing this stuff? I just reread this, and depressed myself. Bruh.