DEAD POETS SOCIETY x READER [ONE SHOTS]

Puck (Neil)

Puck. That's what you call Neil Perry ever since the first day of rehearsals. It's a nickname you'd given to him that fit quite well when he wasn't being the worrisome boy he is. Somehow, the theater is his safe haven when he gets away from Welton. His quick wits resurface when you'd see him act on stage instead of worrying about his grades or ranting about his father, and is the side of Neil Perry you preferred.

In the months preparing for A Midsummer Night's Dream, you two had gotten closer where during his rehearsal breaks, he'd come over to you to talk while you painted the props or fixed the background and you greatly enjoyed his company. Though it still remains a mystery what drew the both of you together, or perhaps it's the way you called him 'Puck' like no one else he liked so much. Or how from all of the actors, he seemed to be nicest, who'd listen to your rants while you painted and who's stay a little later to help you pack (though you know it was a way to get away from Welton for a little bit longer). But whatever it is, you found solace in his company, and oftentimes you'd hope the boy feels the same way.

Although Neil's talk about his father is another thing. The way he talks about his old man is enough to intimidate you, and his grip on Neil's neck was evident in the way he paces around backstage.

"He's here." He whispers anxiously. "Father's here, and he's going to watch my play." He says, and you can hear his breathing becoming even faster.

"Puck, calm down." You lightly hold him by the arm, making him face you. "For now, your father is the least of your worries. The play is your top priority. This is your day, okay?"

He takes a deep gulp, eves still glued to the ground.

"This is your moment, don't let anything or anyone ruin what you love." You say sternly, and Neil looks up to meet your gaze. Your stomach flips, and in a split second of panic, you let go of his arms and take a step back.

Okay." He huffs, shaking off his jitters.

"You'll do great, Puck." You tell him softly. "And maybe after your performance, your father will change his mind about acting."

"You think so?"

"You bet." You smile. "You're a great actor, Puck. And if your father isn't persuaded by that, then my God there is something wrong with him."

His anxious frown turns into a full grin, his eyes lighting up with motivation. Without warning, Neil engulfs you in a rather tight hug that sends sparks flying from the pit of your stomach. You blush profusely, swallowing a lump in your throat as you awkwardly pat the tall Welton boy on the back. He lets go, you look away and hope to God he doesn't notice your now scarlet face.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/n)." He says, and then the stage lights dim. That's his cue.

"Now go out there and give them a performance of a lifetime, Puck."

He nods one last time and runs off to the stage. The curtains draw open. The play has begun.

You watched behind the curtains all the way as Neil stole the show as Puck. And that's your Puck, eating up all the applause and standing ovation by the audience. From the audience, his friends hollered the loudest. And as you watch from backstage as the whole cast takes a boy, at that moment it felt like you've shared his greatest achievement with him.

"You did great, Neil!" His friends cheered and shook him aggressively, Mr. Keating couldn't be any more proud. There was a glimmer in his eyes, one of hope, excitement, and destiny, and he was excited and ecstatic for the first time in his months and months of anxiety.

"Oh, guys, I need to meet someone, I'll be back." He snaps as the thought of you comes into his mind. "Meet me outside, I'll be back, I promise." He says and runs off backstage to see you congratulating the rest of the cast and crew.

"(Y/n)!" He yells, and you immediately run to him the moment see him.

"Puck!" You yell and jump in his arms, this time giving him a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, I'm so proud of you! You were amazing!" 

"Thanks to you." He retorts. "I couldn't have done it without you, (Y/n)." He says and gently holds either side of your arms. And there it was again, the sparks flying in your system. At that moment you realize how close he was standing in front of you, the warmth of his touch in the cold winter night. Neil Perry was beaming, scarlet on the face for what you could only assume was because of all the exhilaration. You swallow a lump in your throat, Neil takes a step forward. But before he could say or do anything, someone clears their throat that catches both of your attention.

"Son." He greets sternly. Mr. Perry stood by the doorway backstage and he did not seem amused. Your excitement drops as you instinctively turn to Neil, whose face was looking grim.

"Father." He greeted, hearing a slight wobble in his voice. "Father, this is-" He stammered, gesturing to you, and you immediately stand rigid. "This is (Y/n). She is one of my best friends." 

Mr. Perry gives you a curt, yet stern nod.

"Please to meet you, sir." You tell him, forcing out a smile, yet you know he's not here for the pleasantries.

"Excuse me, dear, but will you allow me to talk to him for a second." You feel your stomach turn to a knot, but you just nod and awkwardly leave the father and son alone. 

You turn back to Neil trying to gain some sort of reassurance. He gives you a timid not, but his eyes seem to please you to stay.

You wait outside the building, numb to the cold. For now, anxiety seems to take over your body thinking about the unamused Mr. Perry and the anxious Puck. You fiddle with your hand, waiting for them to come out. And when they finally do, you rush over the two men only to be blacked by tall Welton boys trying to fish Neil away from his father. They also seem to have sensed the grief in Neil and the stern expression that never seems to go away from Mr. Perry's face.

"Oh come on, Mr. Perry, at least let us celebrate! It's the weekend-" One of Welton boys pleaded.

"Don't make this any more complicated, Dalton." Mr. Perry huffs, leading Neil to the car parked in the driveway. 

"Neil, Neil!" You yell out, weaving through the crowd of boys. "Puck!" You yell even louder, enough for him to turn back to you.

"(Y/n)!" He yells.

"Puck!" You hug him tightly. "It's going to be alright." You breathed, but it was more like a plea this time. 

"You did great, Puck. You really did!" You tell him, squeezing tighter as if that would make him stay.

Neil sighs a wobbly sigh, returning the embrace.

"Thanks, (Y/n). For believing in me."

"Stand up for yourself, okay? Just like we talked about. I'm here for you." 

From behind Neil, Mr. Perry stood, displeased.

"Son, let's go." He says sternly.

"It will all be alright, okay? We can celebrate some other time." You tell him. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"Neil!" His father shouts once more.

"Right, tomorrow." He nodded and held you tightly on the shoulders. You can sense that he doesn't want to let go and neither do you.

"You promise?"

"I promise, (Y/n)."

He gives you a forced smile before his father dragged him away into the car, shoving him in and the rest of you out and away from Neil. And as they drive away, you stand helplessly by the sidewalk, with his Welton friends watching miserably at how the whole night had turned out.

"You better promise, Puck!" You yell at him, trying to get reassurance, but already knew what would happen. Boarding school is miles away and you're certain he wouldn't allow Neil to step on Henley Hall's stage any time after or any stage for that fact. And seeing him look at you helplessly as the car drives away would be the last time you'd see each other for the whole year of high school. Though it was unbeknownst to you that it would be that last time you'll ever see your Puck ever again.