i dont think neil knows how much todd likes to sit and listen to him ramble about whatever is on his mind that day - something interesting he saw, a weird dream he had, a shower thought, a poem, a book, something funny a classmate did etc
todd could sit for hours listening to neil ramble on and on
and every time neil would stop, todd would ask a question to get him to start talking again because he just loves sitting there listening to neil so much
todd anderson going home in all his sulky emo wannabe glory only to lay on the living room couch near the phone , swinging his legs in the air and giggling into the phone while talking to his boyfriend
anderperry but due to a series of misunderstandings neil thinks they both have agreed to date and todd is clueless and confused as to why neil just greeted him with a kiss
thinking about Todd always crumpling up his papers/notes when he doesnt like what he wrote, how he would toss them away so often
But Neil, the raccoon he was sometimes, rummaged through what Todd was always so frustrated about. They were POEMS!
Neil didn’t think Todd could wrote so much poetry in a day, in a sitting!
He knew Todd could make impromptu poems in front of class but these poems… they were different each time, so beautiful and eloquent, some were dark and cynical, others were… well something about a brunette?
Needless to say, Neil would always rummage through Todd’s paper balls in the trash like some dumpster rat.
Everyday, Todd would produce these little masterpieces and Neil would curse every time he saw one so beautiful yet crumpled, discarded.
Neil started saving the poems. Todd couldn’t throw these! They’re too good!
Idly mountains seem moved by your presence alone I’ll bask longingly waiting for the skies to part for you
Life deftly waits to be used up in all it’s imperfection While death’s beautiful one-use-ness is entrancing Time itself hasn’t mustered enough courage to tell me; Tell me to weep less
Thanking moonlit nights when I dream is like thanking a mother; for loving their children so tenderly, so naturally Then tell me why my childhood was so dimly light at night?
Neil wondered why Todd would ever throw these away, why did he not think they’re worth saving?
One day, Todd threw one singular ball into his tiny metal trashcan before leaving their room.
Neil quickly shuffles out of his bed to read Todd’s latest masterpiece
Sneaking around like a racoon could be fun, to you To me, I’ve noticed too often the emptiness by the floor I didn’t think my words could be of your interest, but- -> I know you’ve been taking my trash, weirdo <-
Neil freezes, before hearing the door creak..
“Y'know, I can see when I don’t have trash in my can anymore, right?”
Neil didn’t know whether to blush, back away, or stammer. He did all three. “I–I, Todd- Wait, I – I can explain- uhm-”
“So… How are they?” Todd entered their room and closed the door behind him. “What do you think of my trash?”
“They’re far from trash!” Neil stands up. “You’re amazing– These are amazing– How come you’ve never shown this to me, to the group!”
“I… I dunno, they didn’t seem like they’d make the cut.”
“Come on, Todd! This makes the cut- this makes a HUGE SLICE! This is– You are… a beautiful poet.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Todd sat by his bed, eyes asking Neil to do the same.
That evening, Neil spent night showing all the poems Todd wrote and gushing about them while Todd tried to hide his blushing. (Especially from the poems about Neil that he didn’t seem to pick up on.)
Todd was a kindergarten teacher and at the same time he wrote books for children, but he have never read in front of the class before. Some day a teacher ask him to take care of her class while she was doing some paperwork in the principle’s office and he agreed, of course “You can read them one of your books! They love books, right children?” “YES!”
The children were there, sitting in their chairs, waiting, staring, with big smiles. Todd was sweating. His impostor syndrome was taking over.
“You’re the author of The Little Marmaid?”, a girl asked.
“No, I’m not”.
“But you are an author, right? Mrs. Kim told us”, said a boy.
“Yes, yes I am” he replied as he approached the shelf to choose one of the books.
“Are you famous?, asked a girl with glasses.
Todd giggled.
“I think I’m not. What about this one? It’s called The puck and the poet”.
“YES!”, they exclaimed in unison in agreement.
And then he started reading, trying to imitate the amazing ability of the narrator of his audiobooks, his husband Neil Perry. He even try to do voices and the kids laughed in joy.
When Mrs. Kim came back, the kids asked her to invited Todd soon again. They were very pleased. Todd promised to come back and to go visit the library together, the children immediately agreed.
Back at home, during dinner, he shared this experience with Neil.
“I knew you could do it, hon! I’m proud of you” and he kissed him. “Maybe we can narrate the next book together, or… OH I’VE A BETTER IDEA, we can realize a new edition of The puck and the poet and YOU can be the poet”, he winked.
“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it”.
“YES!”, Neil exclaimed with excitement and kissed him again. “I’m proud, I really am”.
And that was the day in which the poet was brave enough to defeat his impostor syndrome.
I’ve this idea of making a fic in which Neil make graffitis and today I found the account of secondsapart on Insta and I’m screaming bc it’s exactly what I was thinking. Eventually Neil’s going to share Todd’s poems…
