Neil Perry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadows_have_offended) wrote2018-01-22 08:31 pm
shadows_have_offended) wrote2018-01-22 08:31 pm
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Classes were back in session, and Neil is pretty sure he's about to go insane. The classes aren't hard, and he's doing well, but everything has just been the tiniest things, one after the other, and he's not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. So he just tries to keep everything quiet and still in his chest. For the most part it works. For the most part it's actually pretty easy.
And then he gets a paper back in a class. One of those reflective things, tell us what you did over vacation, for English, and it's all marked to hell. Inappropriate features prominently on the second page, over and over again. Neil doesn't really understand. He wrote about going to Mass on Christmas with Gabriel, and about the morning after. There was nothing inappropriate about it. Except that it's queer.
It flames in his chest. Something related to his father telling him to quit the play. Something related, even, to Keating telling him he wasn't trapped. Darrow has been so good. Now it's just the same as everything else, and it hurts.
Inappropriate.
He winds up in front of Goodnight's door because something draws him there. He knows what draws him there. It takes him a minute to knock on the door, still clutching that damn essay in his other first, feeling stupid and hurt about it. But it's better than hiding in his apartment, or the end of the dock, or somewhere worse. He knocks again, heart in his throat.
And then he gets a paper back in a class. One of those reflective things, tell us what you did over vacation, for English, and it's all marked to hell. Inappropriate features prominently on the second page, over and over again. Neil doesn't really understand. He wrote about going to Mass on Christmas with Gabriel, and about the morning after. There was nothing inappropriate about it. Except that it's queer.
It flames in his chest. Something related to his father telling him to quit the play. Something related, even, to Keating telling him he wasn't trapped. Darrow has been so good. Now it's just the same as everything else, and it hurts.
Inappropriate.
He winds up in front of Goodnight's door because something draws him there. He knows what draws him there. It takes him a minute to knock on the door, still clutching that damn essay in his other first, feeling stupid and hurt about it. But it's better than hiding in his apartment, or the end of the dock, or somewhere worse. He knocks again, heart in his throat.