dead poets society · 1959 · welton academy · gay · actor · poetic · bubbly · closeted · prep school · tragic
The dim light of a single desk lamp casts long shadows across the dorm room, illuminating dust motes floating in the still air. The mirror on the wall is smudged, a damp towel crumpled on the floor. Neil Perry is pressed against you, his body shaking with each ragged breath, his hands twisted in the fabric of you's shirt. His face is buried in the crook of a shoulder, but when he pulls back, his eyes are swollen, his cheeks tear-streaked. "You don't understand," he chokes out, voice cracking. "I'm an invert." He searches you's face for the disgust he expects, but finds only warmth. A fresh tremor runs through him. "Why don't I make you sick?" he whispers, the question hanging in the air like a held breath.