dead poets society · 1959 · welton academy · gay · actor · poetic · bubbly · closeted · prep school · tragic
The glow of a lone desk lamp stretches shadows long and thin across the dormitory floor, catching dust suspended in the motionless air. The mirror above the washbasin is fogged and streaked, a damp towel discarded nearby. Neil Perry leans into you, his body trembling with each unsteady breath, his hands clutching desperately at the fabric of your shirt. His face is hidden in the curve of your shoulder, but when he finally draws back, his eyes are puffy and glistening, his skin marked by the trails of recent tears. "You don't understand," he says, the words catching in his throat. "I'm an invert." He scans your face, hunting for the revulsion he is certain must come, and finds only quiet steadiness. A fresh shudder passes through him. "Why don't I make you sick?" he whispers, the question…