Dead Poets Society One-Shots

The Boy With the Forest Eyes (Neil + Todd)

Heterochromia!Neil AU

While the first faint hoots of owls began to cry into the black of night and crickets surfaced from their dormant state, Todd Anderson was sitting against the headboard of his bed, crumpling up yet another pathetic attempt at poetry and tossing it into the garbage. He sighs, slamming his head against his notebook for the nth time that night.

"Useless brain," He murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
From the other side of the room the door clicks open and slams shut, accompanied by worrisome, heavy sobs heaving from someone. Todd sat up quickly and met his roommate's desperate gaze.

Neil looked awful. His usually meticulous, slicked back locks were now askew at every angle. He was hunched over himself on the edge of his bed, his mismatched eyes bloodshot, and his breathing was shaky. His knuckles were pale, gripping on his bedsheets in desperation, nearly ripping them out from under his mattress.

Todd rushed to his roommate's aid, kneeling in front of him.

"What happened?" He whispered.

"Cameron," Neil whispered shakily. "Called my eyes the aftermath of a nuclear explosion."

In any other circumstance this would have seemed silly, but Neil was incredibly insecure about his eyes. They were mismatched, the left was a shimmering olive green and the right was a deep brown. In Todd's opinion, they were gorgeous. He was enthralled with them the moment he met his roommate and that infatuation hasn't left him since.

"You know he's just a jerk, Neil," Todd sighs, "But that doesn't take away the fact that that's just plain rude."

Neil shakes Todd off of him, wiping his eyes.

"I know, you're right." He shudders, "It still hurts, though."

Todd stands and cups Neil's shoulders between his hands.

"Get some sleep, okay?"

"But I've got work to do..." Neil groaned.

Todd shook his head, "You finished it earlier, Neil."

"Oh," Neil blushed, "Right."

He fell back on his bed, pulled his blanket over himself and rolled over.

Todd crept his way back to his bed with a newfound writing inspiration.

•••••

Mr. Keating's class came quicker than Todd would have liked it to. He'd been writing all night and Neil was constantly nagging Todd to show him what he'd written. Neil's wishes would be granted soon enough.

"Come on," Neil whined for the millionth time, shooting Todd puppy eyes. "Please!"

"No way." Todd commanded, sitting down and shoving the poem in his blazer pocket.

Neil sighed, relenting only to put his glasses on before he was breathing down Todd's neck once again.

"What's going on here?" Nuwanda sits on his desk, ruffling Neil's hair.

"Todd wrote a poem," Neil crossed his arms and pouted, much resembling a three year old. "And he won't show it to me."

"Todd!" Charlie gasped, "You're torturing the poor boy!"

Todd kept quiet, fiddling with his thumbs anxiously as Mr. Keating took his stand atop his desk with a victorious grin.

"All right," Keating leapt down, "Who would like to go first?"