time voyager | dead poets society

𝖛𝖎.

~
9th Aug, 1959
~

Soft light and the sweet smell of coffee wakes me, which is comforting but feels slightly wrong. I slowly start waking up and realise the bed I'm in is much more comfortable than before causing me to bolt up and stare at my surroundings. First off, it most certainly not my room but the style of the room hints that I'm still at Welton. In the corner is a smallish desk covered in books and papers and a framed picture of a pretty lady with a cello. The door on the opposite side of the room opens and enters a man possibly in his thirties with professional clothes and a cup of glorious coffee.

"Oh you're up! Please don't be alarmed you're perfectly safe, I'm Mr Keating but you can call me Captain or John." he gives me the warmest, brightest smile anyone has ever given me and held out his hand. I take it assuringly, not taking my eyes off his.

"Y/n. Hey! you're that teacher the boys told me about, the english teacher. Shit, does this mean I'm back in '59?" he chuckles and takes a seat next to the bed and takes a sip from his mug.

"Yes I'm their english teacher and the date is the 9th of august 1959." I hummed in reply and looked around the room some more.

"How did I get here though? Didn't I collapse on the side of the road?" I asked feeling a little guilty for not meeting a simple deadline.

"When we didn't find you at the cave we had to search the forest for a couple of hours until Mr Overstreet found you on the side of the road. They were very worried about you ya know..." He took a long loud sip of his drink as he walked over to his desk and began looking through papers.

"Wait, who was worried?"

"The boys of course; Charlie, Neil and Todd. Even the boys you haven't met; Knox, Meeks, Pitts and Cameron. Mostly because they were desperate to meet you, Charlie spoke very highly of you." he stated matter-of-factly.

"Great now I've got expectations to meet..." I sigh and flop back onto the bed.

"So... what exactly did he say about me?" I ask remembering how shamelessly horny he was and knowing teenage boys the others probably were as well.

"He told us a lot about how beautiful you were, which I think he wasn't short of exaggerating," I stifle a giggle. "and that you were very concerned about someone named Franz and not believing that the year is 1959." Already feeling like I can trust this man, I decide he's the first person I should inform about the time stuff.

"Yea I'm not from this year. Or even this decade. Hell, not even the century!" I exclaim but quickly compose myself aware it's still early in the morning and I'm not supposed to be here. John looks at me quizzically and I start to question my sanity all over again.

"I know I'm really fucking crazy to say it but I swear it's true. I can't control it, it just happens every time I fall asleep." I desperately need someone to believe me and I want it to be him.

"So what year do you come from?" his voice is relaxed and soothing, no hint of uncertainty or disbelief.

"...2019." I mutter. He quietly nods and moves to put his empty mug into a small sink near the door he came from. The silent suspense chills my bones and I'm not sure how long I waited for him to speak but when he did, I'd never felt such relief.