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"You weep, angel of love;
Do you fear for my future?
Oh! fear not: — if I should die,
If I should wither in the flower of my youth,
I leave this life without regrets,
I die reading it in your eyes!"
Casimiro de Abreu
Todd’s senses still insisted he keep his eyes closed, pinned like an inert object to the mattress. Even with his eyelids squeezed tight, he somehow knew the only light filtering through the window was the pale moonlight that had emerged amidst the snowstorm. His limbs were limp, his delicate breathing still too shallow to make him move from there. Still, something seemed to want to snatch him from a peaceful sleep that Todd hadn't enjoyed for several days.
He realized it was likely his stubborn ears, remaining alert to the silence. Everything in that room seemed too quiet, except for the soft sound of the wind scratching against the windowpane and the hum of the old radiator, showing that it was still alive despite its age.
And the sound of two breaths, synchronized despite sleep, moving together.
That was when Todd finally opened his eyes, still disoriented in that state between sleep and wakefulness, but determined to discover what was making his skin so hot it felt sticky, what was causing that itch in his nose, why his legs were splayed so wide, and whose breathing it was that he had heard (and felt).
He made out the bluish light reflected off the snow, bathing the room in an almost ghostly semi-darkness. It was very hot, far too hot, which made no sense since the cold in Welton only intensified each day, and what Todd had previously seen as beauty in the snow was now an annoyance that made him shiver to the bone due to the lack of adequate heating in the dormitories.
He took a deep breath, then felt two rib cages expand against each other. Todd found himself torn between holding his breath to remain as still as possible and bolting upright in a panic to escape this bear trap. That is, until the surprise finally dispelled the remnants of sleep and the memories of just a few hours earlier returned to him. It took him a second to finally remember that he was in bed with Neil.
The sensation was like sticking your finger in a socket and accidentally getting electrocuted. Neil’s warm breath was against Todd’s neck, and the blond boy realized it was the hair atop his friend’s head that was tickling his nose. A leg shifted between his own.
Neil Perry. In Todd’s bed. With Todd. Without the protective barrier usually provided by clothing.
Todd felt a new wave of vertigo. His wide eyes darted across the dark ceiling, unable to see much due to the lack of light. He could feel the frantic pounding of his heart against his ribs through the skin and feared he would end up waking Neil, given how tightly pressed they were against each other.
He forced his breathing to slow down as Neil moved over him again, more precisely, his arm casually draped over Todd's abdomen. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the blond boy briefly focused on how low the ceiling was; the wood would need repairs soon. Then he looked ahead, where the small wardrobes with coats hung, the study tables, and the locked door prevented anyone beyond those hinges from knowing what had happened in that room.
Neither their friends, nor their teachers or families, thankfully.
Thinking about this, Todd felt his ears grow hot and immediately a warmth spread across his face. He felt his skin tighten, where hot tears had left their traces not long ago. When Todd finally looked down, his heart did a somersault in his chest. Neil slept peacefully beside him, his chin resting on Todd's shoulder as he used Todd's arm as a pillow, his dark hair tousled and his damp bangs falling over his forehead. The blue light cast shadows from his eyelashes that seemed to reach almost to the tip of his nose, while the shadows accentuated the sharp, beautiful structure of his cheekbones.
Strong, fearless and handsome, Neil seemed so small at that moment. So much younger than he had ever been allowed to be.
After Todd's soul had returned to his body, memories of that day began to come flooding back, like fragments of a dream…
It was the eve of the premiere of A Midsummer Night's Dream. He remembered how the stale smoke from the pipes rose to the uneven ceiling of the cave. Outside, the wind was already freezing the branches of the Vermont trees; inside, the air was heavy, warmed only by the closeness of their bodies and the flickering flame of a single lantern set upon a flat stone.
It was Charlie who triumphantly pulled a dark bottle from his coat. It wasn't a romantic tavern goblet, but a bottle of cheap sherry he had managed to smuggle in.
“To warm the blood of dead poets!” "announced Charlie, with a wry smile, pressing the mouth of the bottle to his lips before extending it to the group." “A toast to transgression!”
The bottle was passed from hand to hand among the boys, each grimacing at the bitter taste of the drink. Todd brought his knees to his chest and hugged his own legs, huddled in his usual corner, watching Cameron reluctantly accept the bottle of Meeks, and timidly wipe the mouth of the bottle with his sweatshirt sleeve. Todd was more than willing to refuse the drink, not only because of the poor quality of the alcohol (if Knox and Cameron's contorted faces meant anything) but also because of the terrible idea of sharing the same mouthpiece among all the guys, especially at that time of year.
But then Neil Perry took the bottle.
Todd’s hands were always restless, so he began rolling down his sweater sleeves, trying to cover his freezing fingers. Neil didn’t drink immediately; the dark-haired boy seemed to examine the bottle in the beam of the flashlight with a deliberation that felt almost unnatural. His dark eyes gleamed with the reflection of the liquid as Todd drank the image of him in complete silence.
“It’s our potion, boys.” Neil’s voice reverberated against the ancient stones. He raised the bottle to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically as he swallowed a significant amount of the liquid. To everyone’s surprise, Neil didn’t grimace at all.
He scooted across the stones until his shoulder pressed against Todd’s, holding the bottle out to the blond boy. Todd hesitated, his eyes fixed on the hand Neil used to hold the infamous drink. When his fingers brushed against Neil’s to take the glass, the contrast of his friend’s warm skin against his own icy coldness sent a small jolt through his chest, like an electric spark in the dark. Todd hesitated for a second, but tilted his head and let the drink trickle down his lips. The taste was strong, sweet, and burned his throat in a rough way, but the warmth that spread in his stomach was almost a physical relief.
After handing the bottle to Pitts, Todd turned his head and met Neil’s dark gaze.
Too close. Too hot.
In that moment, the sound of Charlie and Knox arguing faded into mere white noise at the back of Todd’s mind. Looking at the heat in Neil's melting pupils, he understood, without needing verses or meter, what the dead poets of the last century meant.
Hours later, back in the dormitory, darkness had swallowed Welton whole, turning the building into a sort of mausoleum. Todd couldn't sleep, just as he hadn't slept properly for several days, after the unexpected encounter between Neil and Mr. Perry, when the man discovered that his son had forged written permission to venture onto the stage. His friend had been so miserable that Todd simply couldn't believe it when Neil said, shortly after, that he had convinced his father to let him perform in the play’s opening night.
From that day on, a physical anxiety kept him rigidly awake. He lay on his side, staring at the bed across the room, holding his breath so as not to break the deathly silence.
Then he heard his friend stirring under the covers. The fabric whispered almost shyly, but Todd caught the sound.
“Neil?” Todd’s voice was so low it was nearly lost in the wind battering the windowpane. There was a pause that lasted too long, during which Todd could still taste the sherry and feel his heart pounding in his throat.
“Can’t sleep either, Todd?” The muffled reply came.
Todd sat up slowly, propping himself on his elbows. In the dim light, he could make out Neil’s posture: sitting with his back against the headboard, head bowed, hands buried in his hair. It was the same desolate image from a few days earlier, right after dinner, when Neil returned from a phone call with his father. "It was really bad." he told his friends, his eyes fixed on the ground, a weak, forced smile trying to disguise the trembling in his hands. Neil had lied to the group shortly after, claiming Mr. Perry had agreed, that everything was fine. But Todd had learned to read the silences. He had seen the exact moment the light inside Neil had gone out. He just didn't understand why Neil had lied.
Now, he watched his friend’s sleeping face beside him and felt anger. Todd couldn't help feeling resentful toward his own parents for frequently overlooking him, overshadowed as he was by the brilliance of his perfect brother. But he learned to live with it, for better or for worse.
Yet, he couldn't forgive Mr. Perry. Who in their right mind would look at Neil with that mischievous grin, thick eyebrows, and raspy laugh, and think of hurting him? Of making him suffer? Of not loving him?
Perhaps it was just camaraderie or a latent protective instinct, but that's how, earlier that night, Todd leaned closer to the wall when Neil got up and walked to the edge of his bed. Neil’s silhouette, tall and elegant in the dim light, seemed so small and fragile from Todd’s vantage point. Neil didn’t ask, and Todd didn’t say a word as he made as much room as possible on the twin mattress, allowing his friend to snuggle against his body beneath the covers.
There was no syntax in the world capable of naming what happened next. There was no way to explain Neil’s urgency or Todd’s devotion.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, Todd moved his left hand to caress Neil’s bony shoulder with his fingertips. From that angle, he could see a dark mark amidst the freckles dotting the other boy’s pale skin. Todd recognized the curve of his own teeth there, and a sudden heat surged like embers on his face. Especially as he looked at his own chest and noticed the reddish marks on his skin, scattered below his collarbone and near his nipples, blooming like rosebuds.
They bore each other’s marks. It felt too intimate.
The thing was, for Todd, physical touch was never simple. His mind constantly operated on a frequency where the world roared too loudly. The noise of conversations in the locker rooms made him nervous, as did the rough, itchy texture of the gym uniform and the suffocating weight of the teachers' stares. He had spent his life trying to calibrate his body to keep others from seeing how the world assaulted him.
And of course, beyond saliva, teeth, and fingernails... there was the sweat.
The fusion of skin against skin beneath the covers created a humid, stifling microclimate. Under normal circumstances, the sensation of someone else’s sweat mingling with his own, and the dampness of the sheets clinging to his bare skin, would have sent Todd into a sensory panic. He loathed being trapped in unpleasant textures. But at that moment he felt bizarrely the opposite.
There was a certain unease, of course. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want a shower and a chance to brush his teeth to wash away the traces of the sherry from hours ago that still lingered on his tongue. He was fully aware of the line of moist heat where Neil's chest touched his, but Todd's mind processed it not as a threat, but as emphasis. Tactile proof that everything that happened before they fell asleep was real.
It was achingly real.
What was it about Neil Perry, anyway? Until that year, Todd’s existence had been an exercise in invisibility. Don’t cause trouble, go to and from school, graduate, and stay under the radar until landing a job that could buy his freedom. Leave the spotlight to Jeffrey. Todd already knew well how to navigate life and float among the expectations of others.
That is, until Welton. When the boys invited him to spend cold nights in an ancient cave with almost nothing but flashlights, snacks, and a few scribbles. Until Mr. Keating whistled his way into the classroom on the first day and made words slide like honey from Todd’s lips. When Neil Perry laughed, the night they threw Todd's birthday present off that stupid bridge. The papers painting the ground white even before the snow arrived, and that was one of the best birthdays Todd could remember.
Neil stirred in him a sudden, fierce hunger for life.
Those deep, dark eyes would gleam with a golden light during every bit of mischief, and that smile would shine through every act of rebellion, no matter how small. Todd understood that living was different from merely surviving, seeing how his friend always seemed ready to seize life by the throat.
As Neil’s breath tickled his neck, Todd rested his free arm behind his head, his mind drifting back to the previous month. All of Welton emptied out when most of the students had returned to their families for the weekend. Only he and Charlie remained behind.
At first, Todd didn't think he'd get along with Charlie, nor with all his rebellious attitude, his saxophone, and the satisfaction he took in defying the rules with a cynical smile. He certainly wasn’t the kind of person Todd would have consciously chosen as a friend. But it didn’t take long to realize that Charlie saw things differently. He didn’t try to “fix” Todd’s shyness and awkwardness, the way everyone else seemed to. He simply made enough noise to allow Todd to remain silent.
Then, on Saturday night, Charlie invited him to the dorm room he shared with Cameron, saying something like, “This place feels like a morgue, let’s redecorate!”
Together, they had dragged the two heavy single beds, pushing the mattresses together to create a single, immense shelter in the middle of the room. They stayed up late, Charlie smoking a cigarette and reminiscing about the jazz records he listened to in secret from his father, while Todd just listened, until they fell asleep, side by side, with a comfortable and safe space between them. When they woke, the morning was a chaotic delight; both of them laughed and raced against the clock to shove the furniture back into place before the inspector knocked on the door.
Thinking of Charlie made Todd’s chest ache with quiet affection, yet the comparison to the present was inevitable. Now, however, Todd felt an almost selfish sense of relief that he and Neil had never pushed their beds together. The lack of physical space was what made everything so visceral.
Especially because, just before the haze of sleep took hold, that very lack of space had guided them toward something definitive. Todd closed his eyes, letting the recent memory wash over his senses. He could still smell Neil lingering in his nose: a very particular mixture of cheap hair pomade, the bitter trace of Charlie's tobacco that had clung to his clothes in the cave, and the sweet, almost cloying aroma of sherry.
He let his fingers slide through Neil's dark hair, first to the short strands at the nape of his neck, then to the longer strands on top of his head. It felt so soft against his touch. The scent of his hair was different from the rest of his body, but they blended together into something sweet, wild, and fresh, leaving Todd more intoxicated than decadent wine. He pictured once more the sharp line of those lean shoulders, recalling the way Neil ran during soccer practice, and the free, spontaneous movement of those shoulders as he sat between Todd’s knees. Once, Meeks accidentally spilled juice on the blond boy's sweater in a failed attempt to stop Knox from stealing the meatballs off his plate. Since his clothes were still at the dry cleaners, Neil came to his rescue and lent him an extra sweater, as it was impossible to survive within those stone walls without warm clothing. It was that soft green one, which looked quite old. When he put it on, the sweater hung loose at the shoulders, even though Todd had more muscle tone than Neil.
He wished he had shoulders like Neil's, because maybe then he wouldn't spend so much time thinking about them. It was funny, he thought that sharing that sweater was the closest they would ever get to each other, physically.
Until that night, when he sat with one leg on each side of Neil's hips, feeling the muscles in his back move beneath his slippery fingers, Neil's mouth open in the center of his chest, dark hair falling out from Todd's open mouth. Then, as an icy sensation pooled in his stomach and a shiver raced along every hair on his feverish skin, Todd lowered his head and sank his teeth into Neil’s shoulder, trying to stifle the embarrassing sound rising from deep within his core. It seemed to have been the last straw for Neil, because immediately afterwards he groaned against Todd's collarbone and spilled his hot fluid onto his chest.
Todd could still feel the dried goo on his skin, proof of a boundary he had crossed. Did they make a lot of noise? At Sunday mass, would Todd become paranoid imagining that everyone knew? Would someone report them? Would he have to answer to his parents? To God?
But all Todd had wanted was to hold his friend close, to make him feel cherished. He couldn't imagine how he could have offended anyone. Of course, his face still burned with emotion when he remembered the things Neil had done to him and how Todd had reciprocated with such enthusiasm. It was an initial pang of shame, yet nothing compared to the self-loathing he used to feel in the past.
He was happy that it had been Neil rather than anyone else, whispering his name and pressing against his skin, snuggling into his body like a newly discovered home. He was happy to have met Neil Perry, to have known his body, his passion, his fear, because through these feelings, Todd felt he was able to learn a little more about himself.
Now, one question remained: How was he to breathe on his own again? How could he live apart once more, after this?
Perhaps that was what Mr. Keating was trying to explain during class, about making life something extraordi…
Neil moved suddenly.
It was just a slight shudder against Todd, a low sigh escaping between the brunette's lips as he kissed the blond's neck. But Neil’s breathing grew shallower, his knee shifted between Todd’s legs, and his fingers clutched the blanket that covered them only up to the waist.
A sudden, icy panic struck Todd’s chest, halting his train of thought. Reality crashed down on him like a collapsing ceiling. He’s going to regret it… he thought; He'll regret it, he thought, he'll act like it was a mistake and never speak to me again! He obviously knew how he felt about what happened, but he didn't know how Neil felt. His heart was pounding painfully, his mind already projecting the worst-case scenario.
Todd will probably have an awkward conversation with the principal about moving him to a different room. Could they at least put him with Knox? Would the other poets still be his friends?
Neil's head shifted beneath him and Todd held his breath, bracing for the impact of rejection, every muscle in his body tense, ready to recoil.
Neil slowly opened his eyes.
The blue moonlight rested softly on irises still clouded with sleep as he lifted his face from Todd’s neck just enough to look at him. The dark-haired boy blinked a few times, his brown eyes narrowed with drowsiness, and let out a soft sigh. Instead of running away or freaking out, Neil snuggled even closer to Todd's chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck and tightening his arm around his waist, trapping him there.
Todd slowly released all the air he was holding, his chest deflating slowly, and something inside him gave way dangerously. Neil's foot curled behind the blond boy's ankle, and the older boy's fingers began to caress the skin close to his ribs, sliding over the bones as if playing a harp.
Neil remained silent until he murmured, his voice thick with sleep "What time is it?"
Todd swallowed hard, trying to calm the whirlwind in his mind as he felt the comforting, warm weight of Neil’s arm draped over him. “It’s still too early.” he whispered, his voice slightly unsteady. “You should rest. Get some more sleep.”
As if in a Pavlovian reaction to Todd’s nervousness, Neil’s hands shifted to his hips, fingers gripping tight as if trying to anchor him in place. His sharp nose was pressed right against Todd’s carotid artery, where he could likely feel the pulse racing beneath the skin.
“I had a dream, you know…” Neil murmured, and the tone of his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I dreamt about the play. My father was standing by the door watching, and I was looking out from behind the curtains. My hands were freezing, and I was wearing a crown of thorns.” His voice was devoid of any warmth, a coldness that was a stark contrast to the other times Todd had stayed up late listening to him ramble on about theater.
“Everything’s going to be fine tomorrow, Neil.” Todd began, the words coming out with difficulty. “Mr. Keating has even arranged a car to take us there.”
Neil let out a short, dry laugh that cut through the air like glass. “My father is out of town, my mother won’t be there… no one from my family will. I can’t stop thinking…” The dark-haired boy paused for a moment, as if deciding whether it was worth going on. “I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life, yet they don’t even want to see me. It feels like being a ghost.”
Todd tightened his hold on Neil’s shoulders, trying to dispel the gray cloud hanging over his friend’s head. A ghost. That was absurd. Neil was nothing like a ghost; he was a predator in the best sense of the word, hungry, fiercely pursuing something he believed in with all his heart. Todd admired him for that.
“You aren’t a ghost.” The younger one responded by inhaling Neil's hair, as if by pure instinct. “We’ll be there to see you.”
I'll be there for you.
Neil didn't answer, but Todd felt a fleeting smile against his skin as he closed his eyes and continued to absentmindedly stroke his friend, but the vein of worry kept throbbing. Neil's hands moved up and eventually rested on the sides of Todd's chest.
The dark hair moved as Neil braced himself on his forearms and Todd's hand slid to his shoulder blades. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How things… can change so fast.” His friend smiled slightly, in a way that was a little tired at the edges.
"Everything will be fine with the premiere, that won't change." Todd felt a need to comfort him, to offer some reassurance that would keep his focus on what really mattered. "You're good, Neil, you're really very good."
Perhaps this is what happens when you care deeply about someone: the words simply begin to pour from your mouth, and then you become an open book, overflowing with words of comfort and silly pronouncements. But the gleam in Neil’s half-lidded eyes made the blood heat up in Todd’s veins. Todd desperately wanted to banish any bad feelings his friend might have; he wanted to cradle his sleeping, peaceful face in his arms again, undress him (if his clothes weren't already scattered across the bedroom floor), and taste that pale skin with the tip of his tongue.
Neil tilted his head and placed a soft kiss at the base of Todd's neck, his lips barely touching the skin, but it had been enough to awaken every nerve in his body. During the action, the dark-haired man's body slid over his, bringing them closer in height, and now Todd was fully aware of something hardening between his legs.
Perhaps that would have been enough to make him melt into a puddle of embarrassment, if it weren't for the throbbing of Neil's already hard member against his thigh. The two looked at each other with wide eyes, as if only now were they fully aware of how they were together, as if what had happened before had become so naturalized that they forgot to talk about it. Neil offered a shy, yet genuinely sincere smile, and Todd felt like he might faint.
“Sorry…” His friend whispered, as Todd’s fingers almost reflexively began to slide down his spine, feeling his back relax and his chest expand as he took a deep breath through his nose.
“Don’t apologize.” Todd felt his own muscles relax, and he and Neil smiled at each other, as if silently wondering how they hadn't ended up in that situation sooner. They had been sleeping in the same room for months. The gentle caresses, the intoxicated gazes, and the mischievous smiles made Todd think they were both feeling the same way: happy about what had happened, yet perhaps a bit shy about talking about it.
Neil pressed his leg further between Todd’s thighs, hovering over him on the bed, brushing his nose against Todd’s before pressing their lips together. The older boy let the weight he’d been holding up on his forearms settle onto Todd, as if wanting to feel him more fully. Neil kissed and nibbled at his lips, trailing down to his chin and back to his neck. His warm breath on his earlobe made Todd shiver to the very tips of his hair, as he spread his legs wider to better accommodate Neil's hips.
“What do you want to do after Welton, Todd?”
“Huh?” What was Neil asking? Todd wasn't sure, he couldn't calm his mind to focus on the question, not when the brunette started sliding down and leaving wet kisses along his neck. God, he already felt like a hot, sticky mess, yet so sweet and comfortable at the same time.
“What do you want to do after you graduate?” Neil repeated the question patiently, his teeth lightly grazing the line of Todd’s collarbones. He bent his legs further, forcing Todd’s knees to rise.
“Oh, I—I don’t know…” Todd stammered, his focus scattered amidst the caresses. “I think my parents want me to go to Yale, like Jeff.” Although Todd knew it probably wouldn't happen, he knew he wouldn't have high enough grades to be considered.
"No." Neil murmured, leaving a kiss just above Todd's heart. "You're not like us, Todd, trapped by parental expectations. You have a choice, and I don't see you making a bad one."
Todd blinked at the ceiling, disoriented by the sensation of his lips slowly sliding across his skin. "You give me too much credit." He tried to joke. Neil smiled as his fingers toyed with the skin over Todd’s sternum.
“I picture you as a writer… you’ll study literature in college, maybe even become a teacher…”
“Because speaking in class is my strong suit.” he said wryly, his bitten-down fingernails grazing the hair at the nape of Neil’s neck. He still hadn't forgotten the scene Keating had created in his mind. The blanket that never covers anyone. The bedcovers had already slid down far enough to reveal increasing patches of bare skin.
"Okay." Neil replied with a chuckle. “A writer, then.”
Neil shifted up the bed, resting his chin on Todd’s chest, his eyes lost in an image only he could see. "I can see you in about ten years, on a train traveling through Europe. Your hair will be longer."
“I don’t like long hair…” Todd whispered, gazing into eyes that looked like a blend of brewed coffee and aged liqueur. He wondered briefly when Neil would get married, how many children he would have, and if those children would have the same warm eyes.
Neil lowered his face again, leaving a trail of soft kisses across Todd’s chest, his breath warm and steady. "I don't think it will be that long, just a little longer than it is now. Just enough for your bangs to fall messily on your forehead, like when you get nervous and run your hand through them."
Neil's lips retraced the marks he had left on Todd's skin, wet, soft, and warm, tracing the outline of each petal crushed against the white bed of his skin.
“You’ll be reading a book while the rain streaks the windowpane outside.” Todd arched his back beautifully as the older boy reached for the left side of his pectoral muscle and brought it to his mouth. He couldn't suppress a shy moan as he felt his friend’s tongue caress his nipple, his shoulders hunching as he pressed his chest deeper into the heat of that moist cavern.
“You’ll be wearing a red sweater, because you look good in red.” The breath on the wet meat sent a shiver through Todd's entire body, and he parted his lips in a silent moan, that twist in the pit of his stomach forming in anticipation. “But you’ll also have a leather jacket in your backpack, in case you want to impress someone.”
“Of course, my secret weapon.” He joked as Neil continued to build that image for the two of them.
“Ahhh, Todd…” The brunette sighed, running his slick tongue over the nipple again. “The girls are going to love you…” The mattress springs creaked as Neil’s hips began to grind against his. Todd felt his stomach move backward as he pushed his hips upward. "...and the boys too."
The confession, spoken with such natural ease and intimacy in the dim light of the room, made Todd’s head spin. The furniture seemed to dance around him, his lungs couldn't take in enough air, his chest rising and falling forcefully beneath Neil's lips. The audacity of the moment mingled with the desperation of needing something to keep him grounded, the desire to know, the need for an anchor before the inevitable morning.
“But what about you?” Todd managed to articulate, his voice barely a whisper of air. “Do you like me?”
Neil slowly raised his eyes, and Todd felt tiny and defenseless. That dark, intoxicated, wild gaze (predatory) was perhaps the same one that lurked at the edge of the woods at night. Todd felt stripped of his skin, organs, and bones… all that mattered was that feeling, of being devoured by that tragic, beautiful, and poetic intensity.
This time, when Neil leaned in to press his lips to his, there was none of the frenzy of before; it was all languid, wet, and drawn out. They touched each other slowly and without haste, even though time at that moment was borrowed.
Carpe diem. Seize the day.
The bed was a tangle, as were the two boys lying upon it. Legs entwined, fingers pulling at strands of hair, squeezing the firm flesh of thighs or buttocks, or anywhere they could reach. The blanket had long since been discarded, it was so hot that Todd could feel a drop of sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he brushed his lips against Neil's chin.
He couldn't care less, not when they were there together, their bodies satisfied and their chests open, sharing that little bit of sunshine between their skin.
“Keep talking to me, Todd.” Neil’s voice reached his ears just as he was drifting off to sleep. “I want to dream of you when you’re older.”