I never imagined I'd say this, but I was glad to be back at Welton. It had quickly become my new home and I received a great deal of comfort knowing all my best friends were constantly around me.

If I learned one thing at Welton, it's that you can make a family. And no, I don't mean biologically. I mean through shared interests, hopes, dreams, aspirations, fears, experiences, and love. The boys were my family, and I was their's. I couldn't deny I found a certain beauty in that. We are not blood—but we found each other. More like... fate.

Tonight was the first dead poets meeting of the new decade. I vowed to live life more fully as my new year's resolution— or as Mr. Keating would say—Carpe Diem.

Charlie's resolution is to find himself in the principal's office less and less this year. I suppose some things never change.

Neil insisted that as it is the first gathering of the new decade, we must write our own poetry. It was days like this where I silently wished Neil wasn't such a dreamer. I sit, pen to paper, with nothing to write.

'Just write about life,' he'd say. Though, I'd scoff. Creative work was a gift to Neil. He rarely had to try. He practically spewed poetry every time he opened his mouth to speak.

~ ~ ~

"Okay, listen," Neil whispers loudly, a lit-candle held tightly in his mitten-clad hand, offering little light to the dark space.

"In accordance with the new year, we will read new poetry," Neil smirks, earning exaggerated groans from Knox and Pitts.

"Who's up first?" Charlie asks, clearly not wanting to take that place himself. I silently chuckle— though it is short-lived by a quiet and unexpected voice.

"I'll go."

Our heads turn incredulously in the direction of the soft voice; Todd.

"O-okay, sure," Neil says kindly, though his surprise is poorly veiled.

Todd stands from his spot on the damp boulder, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he attempts to retrieve his poem scribbled across a crumpled piece of notepad paper.

He clears his throat, his cheeks adopting a crimson hue as he notices the cave has fallen silent, and all eyes stare back at him.

"A new year, perhaps— but the same fear.

Same secrets, same lies, lay behind the eyes.

I shut them— no one can see. Not even me.

Who am I— truly inside?

I battle with the truth behind my eyes but lose again—retreat and hide.

I open them slowly— light seeps through.

The light exposes my secret— it's you."

The cave falls under a deep spell of silence.

Sadness? Confusion? Both?

I stare unblinkingly at Todd, attempting to make sense of his words— his meaning.

Was Todd...

No, no— it couldn't possibly be.

What was I missing?

As I wonder what— or who— the poem is about, I'm yanked from my thoughts by a cheerful and unanimous applause. The boys eagerly clap and holler for a shy Todd. Who seems less content with the standing ovation, and more relieved at their approval— their acceptance.

I smile— a sense of pure joy flooding my senses. I was happy for Todd, truly. And for whoever had inspired his raw poetry.

Todd took a hesitant seat on his boulder next to Neil— who gave him a shy smile.

The rest of the evening was amazing. I cuddled up close to Charlie, his warmth radiating onto me, as he held me tight to his chest with a protective arm.

"You okay?" Charlie whispers lowly— just loud enough for me to hear.

"Yeah," I hum in response, my voice vibrating against his chest. It's moments like these I wish life would pause— and I could live in it forever. And in this moment, I was more than okay.

~ ~ ~

The next morning I woke up with a smile plastered across my face.

If only my happiness wasn't always short lived— my smile quickly turns into a frown at the sound of angry shouting down the hallway.

"—it is so your fault! How could you be so stupid!?"

Neil?

He stood in the hall, his hands running rapidly through his brown locks, his face just about as red as a tomato.

"I can't believe you!" Neil continues his shouting. I swear he must have woken up the whole hall— no—the whole building.

"I'm sorry, alright?

Who could he possible be arguing with this early?

My bare feet pad across the hardwood floors towards the chaos.

To my utter surprise, Charlie stood across from Neil— his back pressed hard against the wall, and his hands pulling aggressively at his hair.

"I didn't think—"

"That's the problem, Charlie. You don't think!"

"—Neil!" I shout defensively— although I wasn't sure what side to be on. I didn't even know what was going on...

"Shit," Charlie mutters below his breath, his hand yanking at his disheveled locks once he spots me.

"What's going on?"

"Why don't you ask your brilliant boyfriend," Neil scoffs. His tone laced in venom and sarcasm.

"Neil," Charlie scolds Neil's tone towards me. You could say anything about Charlie and he could maintain his composure. But he became very... testy when it involved me.

"Neil, come on, man. He didn't mean for anything to happen," Knox chimes in anxiously— clearly staggered by Neil's rage.

Neil sends Charlie one final glare, before storming off past us all.

Charlie gives me a defeated look before following Neil's lead, and walking briskly away from the rest of us.

I contemplate running after him, but with Charlie was as upset as he appears, I figure he could use some air— they both could.

"What happened?" I ask Knox, Meeks, and Todd— standing about anxiously in the wake of the argument.

Knox clears his throat awkwardly, taking a step closer towards me.

"Charlie he ugh— he told the school's paper about the dead poets society. It was an anonymous post, but the school's looking into it."

"How's that such a bad thing?" I ask bewildered— surely Neil wouldn't be so angered over that?

"It's not a pre-approved club— it's not even really a club. So they want to shut it down."

Todd, Meeks, and Knox exchange dejected glances. The deep sorrow evident in their body language alone.

Ugh, how could Charlie be so stupid?

I scold myself for repeating Neil's harsh words. Whatever his reason may be, I always know he has good intentions.

I decide it best to wait for Charlie's return— which hopefully comes sooner than later.

~~~

I sit anxiously at the desk in my room. I tried reading, writing, and just about every other pastime I could think of— but my mind still wandered to the fight between my boyfriend and my best friend.

That is— until a soft knock sounds at my door.

"Charlie," I let out a shaky breath— completely relieved at the mere sight of him.

"Where have you been?" I sigh— trying to hide the slight scold to my tone.

"Nowhere," Charlie answers— if you could even call it that.

I could faintly smell a day's worth of liquor on his breath.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask, ignoring any attempt to hide my stun.

"S'no" Charlie slurs.

I run a hand through my hair, "you've got to be kidding me," I scold, causing a cute pout to form on his lips— although I was far too mad to admit it— he looked precious.

"I'm sorry," he whines, his voice faltering.

"Charlie," I breath, entirely unsure of what I should say to him. On one hand, it looks like he's beaten himself up enough over what's happened. His eyes were red and glassy— and I don't think it's just because of the alcohol he's clearly consumed.

"It's going to be okay," I settle on my choice of words, which I can only hope hold some truth.

In actuality, I'd be devastated if the dead poets society was disbanded— but knowing us— I think we'd be okay. And together, we'd be more than okay.

Charlie's eyes become even glassier as they stare deeply into mine.

"Christ—I screwed up," he sobs, letting his head fall heavily into his hands.

"Charlie it's okay, we-"

"— I hate that word, okay," he spits. His tone full of venom— but not towards me.

"Charlie!" I scold, this time my tone is much more demanding. He was drunk and I needed to get through to him.

"Look at me," I steel his eyes towards mine with a hard gaze.

"Good," I softly spoke this time— more to myself— as he seems to be settling down a bit.

"We will be okay. No matter what happens you always have me."

A smile finally graces his features— and it's the most beautiful sight. His hazel eyes light up, a dimple showing on his left cheek. His eyes are no longer glassy, but bright.

"And that's all I need— all I'll ever need."