Archive of Our Own ^beta

Todd was not a smoker. It was the one promise he’d kept with his younger self to never pick up the habit. He’d never found cigarettes appealing, not the biting taste twisting on his tongue or the swirling trails of smoke that left his eyes watery. It was all too familiar, not in a way that evoked a feeling of consoling nostalgia but instead a twisted sense of melancholy. The same feeling that extended silence or the weight over others' eyes on him made him feel.

It was a family thing. Both his parents were smokers, his father more so than his mother, and deep down Todd felt uneasy about the reason for it. But most parents smoked, didn’t they? It was an old tradition he could find everywhere, littered in every crack and crevice of his house.

He’d become accustomed to the sharp click of a lighter splitting the quiet air. Seen the wisps of smoke trailing through halls as his dad marched with purpose. And smelt it everywhere. The pungent smell of tobacco littered every surface of his parent’s house, it was sewn into the very fabric of each sweater he wore.

Even Jeffery, Welton's golden boy, couldn’t stray far from family tradition. Todd remembers being young and wide-eyed in the living room. He couldn’t sleep-a problem that would persist for years to come-and it seemed Jeffery couldn’t either. He stood outside on the porch, back pressed against the old wooden supports and head tilted downwards. Every now and then the glowing burn of the cigarette would stand out in the inky blackness.

It became a habit for Jeffery, Todd noticed. Whenever his jaw would start to clench or his voice started to have just enough of an edge to it, Todd would find him outside again. He supposed his parents did the same too, his mother never looked happy when she’d sit quietly at the table with a cigarette between downturned lips. His father boasted to his friends about his golden child between puffs of smoke, but it wasn’t hard to not notice the way his teeth dug into the paper when the topic shifted to his other son.

It’d make sense for him to smoke, his own misery made the bad habit look appealing. Maybe his parents would finally see him as one of them, maybe he’d feel as mature as Jeffery was, and maybe it’d take the edge off the anxiety churning in his gut. But one look at the dullness that haunted the faces of the Anderson family was enough to make his hands shake too much whenever he held one.

He didn’t want to be like his parents but he knew it was near unavoidable. He let himself teeter on a rope above a chasm of family tradition, unsteady and awaiting something to push him. He’d always thought it’d be his parents with their rigid expectations for him that left Todd trailing in Jeffery’s shadow. The possibility to be better taunted Todd, maybe if he breaks the tradition of misery he could be something more.

He’d never thought that temptation would come in the form of a dark-haired actor.

Neil had a habit of making everything look better, his mere touch could turn straw into gold. He led the group like he was a born leader and never seemed scared of it. He was no poet but every poem he recited to class could’ve been written by Shakespeare’s own quill in Todd's opinion. He spoke with such power even when an entire theatre loomed in front of him, unfazed at the fact he had the whole audience in the palm of his hand.

It would only make sense that he would make such a dreaded habit look so good. Neil would sit sidled up by Todd in the cold, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he recited Whitman and Frost to the curious poets, clinging on to every word that left his mouth in a plume of smoke. Even Todd leaned close, the bitter smell burning the back of his throat but he couldn’t seem to get enough.

His fascination with Neil became insatiable, he was bright-eyed and kind, so different from most boys his age. He was alive with such passion that Todd could almost see how bright he burned, the trails of smoke couldn’t even cloud the way his smile shone at the poet as he stumbled over his words. He wasn’t anything like the dreary grey that blanketed the Anderson home in its lethargic arms.

Todd Anderson wanted to climb inside and live in his mind. He wanted to envelope himself in the warmth the other boy radiated like a woolen sweater.

He wanted to fly close to the sun even if it burned his wings.

It came in the form of a cigarette, the very bane of everything in Todd’s life. It was caught between Neil’s lips like always, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he passes the lighter to Todd. He says something about his hands being too cold to light it but all Todd can pay attention to is how close he is to him when he leans in. The cigarette is inches from Todd’s own lips and Neil looks at him expectantly, asking with those soft brown eyes of his.

Todd can barely hold the lighter himself, he misses it three times before it finally catches and the flame flickers to life. Neil leans closer and Todd can feel his breath catching in his throat as he tries to hold the quivering flame under the cigarette. Even with the warmth of the lighter in his hand, he feels it being robbed from him the second Neil pulls away. He purses his lips and tried to ignore the feeling in his gut growing.

Neil gives him a throaty thank you as he chokes down the first few clouds of smoke. The sound of his voice deep and raspy makes Todd feel even sicker and he curls more into himself, intent on distracting himself with the conversations around him. Knox delves into another love poem as Charlie barks out light-hearted insults until Neil jabs him with his foot. The usual poet shenanigans ensure and Todd prays it’ll dull the ache in his heart.

“Have you ever smoked before?” Neil asks, voice ringing out in Todd’s head louder than even Charlie’s sonorous saxophone.

Todd scrambles for something to say, would it be lame for him to say no? If he said yes would Neil offer him one? Or would Neil know that he’s lying? How would he get out of a possible offer? His words are caught in his throat and he settles on a subtle shake of the head and prays the dark will swallow him up.

“Would you like to try?” Todd stares at Neil with wild eyes, mouth opening and closing without saying anything and Neil responds with a reassuring smile. Of course, he would give the option of Todd saying no, he seemed to always have his friend's best interest in mind. But then the decision was left in Todd’s hands and suddenly he’s back on the tightrope trying desperately to correct his balance.

Of course Neil would make falling look so appealing.

Todd is a poet but his words are not his friends this night, he just nods again like it’s the only thing he can do. Neil’s bright smile splits his face and suddenly he’s taking up every inch of Todd’s space, the cigarette held inches away from the blonde’s lips. Todd takes a deep breath, catches the end between his lips, and takes another.

Smoke fills his mouth, attacking his every sense and he pulls away with a hack. The taste was so familiar but a mouthful of it was overwhelming, he’s brought back to days curled up in the recliner and its overwhelming tobacco scent as he tries to read. Neil is laughing and shockingly only he is, whatever melody Charlie was trying to play on his saxophone had all the other poets' attention solely on him. He thanked the heavens for that, not wanting prying eyes on his pathetic coughing fit. Neil pats him on the back, his heavy palm rubbing circles in the back of Todd’s sweater till he can wheeze out a sorry.

Neil waves away his apologies. “No worries Todd happens to the best of us.” He laughs and faces Todd, their faces just inches away. Todd feels sick and Neil keeps smiling. “I have a better option, just trust me, Anderson.”

He doesn’t have any idea what trick Neil may have up his sleeve but there’s not an ounce of him that wants to say no. His fingers tingle with excitement and nervousness, coiling in his stomach with a feeling that’s almost overwhelming. Neil takes a deep breath in of the cigarette and suddenly his warm hands are grasping Todd’s face and he’s leaning in.

The darkness of the cave hides the two boys in its inky black cape, keeping curious eyes from seeing the way the Perry boy’s mouth is pressed against the blushing poet. Todd’s thoughts are racing too fast for him to catch, all he can decipher is the constant Neil! Neil! Neil! in the back of his mind. His lips are soft and gentle, molding against the poet’s chapped and bitten ones in perfect contrast. He can taste tobacco on his lips, even more, when a breath of smoke is passed into his own mouth.

It’s the same strong taste but it's dulled by just how nice Neil’s mouth feels against him, like sugar on the rim of a strong drink he almost makes the taste of smoke good. For once in his life, Todd is overwhelmed by the feeling of greed as every part of him aches for something more. Todd melts against him, caught in the moment and just for a second Todd swears Neil kneads their lips together. Just the slightest bit of pressure of the actor pressing himself against the poet, grasping at the very beginning of a kiss until a sharp saxophone note shrieks out into the air.

The two boys jump apart and Todd’s lips still buzz from their contact, the urge to lean in again and steal another kiss is overwhelming but Neil is already blending back into the rest of the boys. He laughs and shouts for Charlie to play another song, what had just happens seems to have disappeared the second they pulled away. He does it so easily as if it’s second nature to him, while Todd sits back like it’s written across his skin in permanent marker that he just kissed a boy. The ugly feeling of guilt begins to creep under his skin and Todd wants to claw it out.

They don’t talk about it. Neil never treats him any differently but Todd doesn’t think it’ll ever leave his mind. He touches his lips like they’re forever stained with the taste of cigarettes and Neil’s favorite mint gum. He was never supposed to kiss another boy, if there was one thing his parents would never want him to do it was that. It was just as bad as cigarettes but instead of tainting your lungs, it taints your soul.

But he still watches Neil through curious eyes, trying to memorize the way his laugh sounds and all the little moles on his skin in the shower. He lets himself be lured into his gentle kindness and warm soul like it’s soup on a rainy day. He knows it’s wrong but he can’t stop himself from falling further and further down for Neil.

Because of course Neil Perry would make falling in love with a boy seem so good.