Chapter Text
“Things always change and New York teaches you that.” This quote made me want to move to New York. After all, it is 1994, new year, new me. Vermont just wasn't the same after school finished. I felt trapped, a change of scenery is what I need. So last week I packed up what little belongings I have and made the choice to leave everything I've ever known. All my friends had made their own way after graduating from Hell-ton. Knox had moved to Virginia with Chris, Meeks and Pitts went to Yale, Charlie was making his way around Europe, and Cameron left as soon as school finished, not telling anyone his plans. I have moved on from almost everything at Welton academy, except for one thing. Neil Perry.
Me and Neil were instantly good friends from when we first met. Being roommates and all, we kind of had to. Although I felt differently about Neil than I did my other friends. To be completely frank with you, I was in love with him. Everything he did, from performing in plays to him leading Dead Poets meetings, he drew me in. We were each other's rock, from him helping me with my anxiety and me supporting him back into school after his attempt. We were so close, almost inseparable, until our last day of school. He hardly spoke to me, no discussions of his plans, not even a goodbye. This hurt me more than I would like to admit. It wasn’t even him not speaking to me, it was the fact that I would probably never see him again.
Over the past few years I have tried to get in contact with him. I called some of the other poets to see if they know his whereabouts, but they are all as unsure as me. Sometimes when I was in the supermarket, I thought I saw him. Just food shopping, unaware of how much hurt he caused. Then the person who I thought was Neil would turn around, making me realize it was just a tall boy with brown hair. This happened a few times, each encounter leaving me feeling like shit after. Yet I hope that moving away from everything that reminds me of him will help.
It was about 11 am when I arrived at the place I will call home from now on. It was a two bedroom apartment because I intend on getting a roommate. Someone to hang out with in this new city, an almost guaranteed friend. Well. maybe not guaranteed. I think I was lucky to have a roommate as good as Neil at Welton. When I started my years at the academy, I could hardly get a sentence out. Neil was always patient with me, encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone, to seize the day.
My parents were eager to get me out the house, even paying for an advert in the newspaper for a roommate. The apartment I got is okay, hardly big enough for two people. I make money from selling my poems and short stories, so this will have to do.
I started to unpack my beat-up Toyota into the dinky apartment. After a few hours, my new home was almost complete. When I was filling my bookshelf, the phone began to ring. “Hello, Todd Anderson.” I answered. “Hey, I was wondering if the room is still free or if it’s too late?” The voice on the other line replied. His voice sounded oddly familiar, but I just brushed it off as me being confused. “Yeah it is, in fact I’m here right now if you are able to come round and have a look?” I answered, I’m surprised that someone is already interested in the room. The voice on the phone lightly chuckled. “I’ll gladly come round. It'll be about forty minutes. I was going to drop by the store, would you like something?” This took me aback, a stranger offering to buy me something from the store just because? “No, I'm alright but thank you!” We said goodbye and hung up the phone. The mystery voice said he was going to bring me something anyways. One thing I noticed that was odd about this interaction, he never told me his name. He would have to tell me one day, he can’t stay a mystery forever.
Forty minutes has never felt longer. Well, maybe that's not true. When Neil attempted, me and the dead poets went to the hospital he was in. The nurse wouldn’t let us into the ward because we ‘weren’t family’. We might have well been a family with how close we all were. We had to wait for around forty minutes before we were able to go see him. Those forty minutes were the worst of my life. My anxiety has always been bad, yet on that night it had never been worse. When we were finally let in, the sight before me still gives me nightmares. It wasn't grim as such, but seeing Neil in that state made me feel so unimaginably horrible. To think I could have prevented it in a way kept me awake for nights after. Now that I’m older and more mature, I realise that there was nothing I could do. Neil’s father had more power over him than I did.
I set up my cd player while waiting for my potential new roommate. I decided the first album I would put on was ‘Eternelle’ by Édith Piaf. I’ve always had a soft spot for french music, my mother used to always listen to it when I was young. When I was in Hell-ton, I always dreamed about the city of love, often being with Neil. I would fall asleep to the thought of us admiring the Eiffel Tower or walking around The Louvre. Or even just relaxing in The Jardin du Luxembourg. I would then remember that these were all just dreams. Neil knew that I was bisexual, he was the only one I trusted with that information. When I told him, for whatever silly reason, I hoped he would come out to me too. He didn’t of course, and I was too nervous to ask myself. Since then, I’ve tried to go out with other men and women, but none of them are Neil. I know that isn't fair on them but it is the truth. For example, when I was nineteen, I met this girl from my writing lessons. Her name was Claire and she was lovely. When we were going out, I tried to forget about Neil. Yet no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t. Every time Claire and I kissed or slept together, I couldn’t help but think. 'This is okay, but she isn’t Neil.' The guilt ate me up so much that I ended our relationship after four months. Claire didn’t deserve a loser like me who couldn’t get over a stupid crush from high school.
Forty minutes eventually passed and my thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Oh god, why did I agree to get a roommate? I think the waiting for this guy to show up has made me nervous to meet him. After fixing my hair in the mirror and giving myself a ‘you can do this’ talk, I opened the door.