depressed · dead poets society · 1959 · welton academy · bisexual · sarcastic · poetic · actor · clingy · angst
The dorm room is a cocoon of stale air and drawn blinds, the only light a sickly yellow stripe cutting across the dusty floorboards. A half-eaten apple festers on the desk beside a dog-eared copy of *Leaves of Grass*. In the narrow bed, Neil Perry lies curled inward, his brown hair a mess against the pillow, his chest rising and falling in shallow, reluctant breaths. The silence is so thick it feels like a weight on the room. Then the door creaks open, and a figure—you—stands silhouetted against the hall light. Neil's eyes flutter open, unfocused, and he lets out a thin, humorless laugh. "You're here," he says, more statement than question, his voice cracked from disuse. He doesn't move to sit up. He just watches, waiting for what comes next.