that was the day that mr. keating had decided to talk to his daughter. despite having a good relationship with each other, the two didn't often find solace in the traditional manner of words. instead, they opted to read poetry to each other, or, in celia's case, give occasional art pieces to express their emotions.

now, keating had been planning to talk to his daughter for a while. since their arrival at welton, he'd wanted to allow his daughter space; he was afraid of hovering over her as she attempted to make new friends. despite his love for her, he didn't want her to feel like she was limited to only being his daughter. he felt that it was best to allow her to grow on her own as an individual before really acting like he was picking favorites.

of course, the man had asked her every night how her day was, but with her dorm on the other side of the premises, it was hard for him to get a time to actually sit down with the teen, who seemed perfectly fine living her life as if she, like the rest of the boys, was living away from her parents.

the knock on her door made celia look up from her canvas, hastily cleaning up the brush and shoving away the paints in case of a surprise attack from nolan. "just me." her father said with a smile, walking into the room. "wow, they really don't give you kids much room, do they?" he asked.

celia chuckled. "no, they do not." she agreed, smiling up at him. "what's up?"

"i just noticed we.. we haven't really talked too much since classes started up. just checking in." he explained. words normally came to him so easily, yet he struggled often with how to talk to the girl. despite being so similar, he found them also to be so different.

"yeah, i'm sorry about that, i've been meaning to set time aside to go over to your offi- your room," she corrected, remembering that the traditional office of his classroom was doubling as his home for the moment, "but i haven't had much time with all the schoolwork. did you know that hager assigns two full chapters a night?"

keating laughed, shaking his head. "no, no need to apologize. i, too, endured the imminent struggles of the higher education at hell-ton." he patted her knee then, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "i noticed you made some friends, they're a good group of boys."

celia smiled. "yeah. they love you, a lot."

his face brightened at this, and she swore she noticed him blush slightly, as he often did when complimented. "oh, they only say that because i don't load them down with homework as much as the board of direction insists i should."

"no, they really love you. you're a really great teacher, dad. you make learning seem.. actually important and fun." she admitted, tucking her dried off paintbrush behind her ear. "i mean, if anyone can get charlie dalton to enjoy poetry, he has to be some sort of a magic man."

he laughed once more. "you're not wrong. hey, i take it the first meeting went well? i saw neil got my book."

she looked up at the mention of his name. "yeah, yeah, it went really well. i think it's making them all feel more connected to something, like the poetry is giving them a sort of purpose that they didn't have before."

keating smiled warmly, proud of his students. before he could think of a response, he noticed the book that was sitting out on her dresser. "may i?" he asked, waiting for her approval before picking it up and scanning the cover. "t. s. eliot?" he questioned, looking over at his daughter. "i didn't know you were a fan."

celia chuckled. "i wasn't. neil gave it to me in exchange for me making him read dickinson."

"ahh." he said, nodding his head as if something suddenly made sense. "he has good taste, the waste land is a good read." he set the book back down on her desk, letting his hand remain on it for a moment before he stood. "well, i won't keep you, i just figured i'd make my way down to see you."

she nodded, adjusting in her seat. "hey, i'll come down to visit you more often, you don't need to come all the way over here." she told him as he made his way to the door.

"that would be nice." he agreed. "love you, celia." he smiled as she said it back, drumming his fingers on her door frame before exiting the room.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

that was also the night that she first went to the rooftop. when her schoolwork was all complete, celia found herself sitting once more at her desk, legs pressed to her chest. frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair, attempting to rack her brain of even one single creative brain cell.

she let out a perturbed groan, staring down at the empty canvas. after eventually having enough, she grabbed the canvas, along with her mini bag of paints and brushes, and silently left the room. when she walked down the hall, she wasn't unaware of the dog, who let out one quiet bark before happily accepting her handful of treats.

with the distractions all adverted, she climbed up the stairs at the end of the hall and made her way to the fire escape. the brisk night air was cold against her face, but she quickly adjusted to it, sitting down on the concrete.

from this vantage point, celia could see all of the stars in the sky, shining high above the pine trees that marked the entrance of the woods. she could almost even see the route that she and her friends had taken to the secret cave, where they'd read poetry together the night before.

she now fiddled with her paintbrush, thinking to herself. how could she go about painting the stars, the objects so gorgeous that she could barely even comprehend? she thought for a moment more before dipping her brush into a pthalo acrylic and painting the horizon.

as celia was adding in a small scatter of pine trees to her canvas, unsure of how much time had passed, she heard the sound of footsteps. when she looked up, she was relieved to see that it was just neil. "hey." she said, looking back to her painting.

"hey." the boy replied, seeming equally surprised to see her there. "do you.. come up here often?" he asked with a slight chuckle, sitting down next to her on the pavement.

she shrugged. "no, i just couldn't sleep. needed inspiration."

"you're an artist?"

she hadn't realized before that she never mentioned the hobby to any of the guys. "yeah. yeah, it's just a hobby, but, art is my passion." she moved over slightly so he could take a look at her rendition of the sky.

neil looked at it, and celia was touched by the look of pure awe in his eyes. his face resembled the night before, when she'd read from his book. "it looks amazing!" he said, looking between her eyes and the painting. "i can't believe i've never seen your art before, you're incredible!"

celia, who had never quite gotten used to compliments on her work, shook her head. she could feel the blush creeping up her neck as she turned back to him. "please, you flatter me."

"a deserved flattery! this is.. this puts anything i could ever draw to shame." he said with a smile, holding his hand out to gesture to the painting.

she laughed. "oh, now i want to see you draw something."

"i can assure you, you don't. when i was about eleven i made a cartoon cat. his name was sherman, and he would go on these little adventures with all of this animal friends." neil told her.

"that's absolutely precious!" celia said, laughing again at the thought.

"oh, it would've been," neil agreed, "if my drawings actually conveyed what the animals were! my mom thought that the cats were birds, and that the elephants were giraffes, it was a whole thing."

she threw her head back laughing at this. "how did you.." she calmed herself down. "how did you manage to make the cats look like birds?"

"don't ask me!" the boy responded, holding his arms out in exasperation. "i guess i just wasn't made to be an artist."

"oh, don't worry, you have other talents." she teased, smiling over at him.

he met her gaze, and celia was once again painfully aware of the wrinkles next to his eyes when his lips curved into their signature smile. "oh! i read your book." he said, breaking the silence.

"oh? what did you think?"

"you were right about the bird poem." he replied. "i kept re-reading it over and over," he admitted, "the analogy- the metaphor, it was just so captivating." the boy smiled at her again, watching the way the soft wind blew her hair from its lazy ponytail. "and i'm assuming you read through a bit of my book, since you were reading it last night."

celia laughed. "yes, it was really good! you were right about the free verse. if i'm being honest, it almost made me think i was going to have an existential crisis."

"what do you mean?" neil asked, folding his legs up to his chest to match hers.

"i just mean the.. the whole concept of it! it's a story about the collapse of modern western civilization, it made me think about too much!" she watched as he scrunched his nose up in laughter. "don't laugh! it did! it isn't my fault you gave me a book about a man whose friend dies."

neil titled his head towards her. "okay, you win. it is pretty existential crisis worthy."

the two looked at each other, and celia could once again feel the blush forming on her cheeks. god, she wished her face didn't redden so easily. "you don't have to answer, if it's too personal, but what happened between you and your father?" she asked, looking up at him hesitantly. "i remember charlie saying something about it."

he was silent for a moment, and celia worried if she'd crossed a line. she was about to apologize when he cleared his throat. "i don't really know.. how to describe my relationship with him. he's my father, right? and i'm his son. and he has all of these expectations for me, but he never stopped to think about what i want! and i want to talk back to him, you know? i wish i could be outspoken, and do what charlie says. rip off the band aid and tell him off. but, i can't. i can't, because what happens then? he would only get worse." he looked up at her then. "i'm sorry, you probably.. you know, your dad is great."

celia nodded silently, a slight frown on her lips. "yeah, he is great. but even though i don't.. even though i don't know exactly what you're going through, i get it. i feel a lot of pressure, too. and the stakes can feel so high when everyone expects me, as a woman, to fail."

she was silent for a moment, trying to think of the best way to convey that he wasn't alone. "my point is.. i'm here for you. and i'm really thankful. for you. i'm thankful that you help walk me to class, and i'm thankful that you lended me your book, and i'm thankful that.. that you're out here, on the roof of this school, in the middle of the night, with me."

neil took in her words, a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. it was rare for him to feel this flustered, but he looked down at his lap in embarrassment, fiddling with his fingers. "i'm really thankful for you, too, you know." he said, looking back to her. "this year is already going so well, just because you're here now." he nudged her knee with his. "you make hell-ton bearable, ceil."

it was then that she, with a newfound burst of confidence, placed her head on his shoulder. "thank you." she said after a few moments of silence. her eyes were fixated on the stars, but neil was looking at her, wondering how she could look so perfectly ethereal. "look at them." she breathed out, watching as the shimmering lights twinkled above their heads. "stars are just the most beautiful thing in this whole world, don't you think?"

the boy looked down at her, with her head nestled perfectly on his shoulder, and nodded. "yeah." he agreed, but he didn't quite think he was talking about the stars anymore.