#dps imagines

“Hi Mel, did I forget something?” she asks sweetly, masking her distaste for the girl in every possible way. She was way too bubbly and happy to be an intern here, considering Verena worked the same job and it made her positively miserable.

“Yes actually, you left without pulling a name for Secret Santa,” she grinned, holding up the jar that still had a label half ripped off the side. It had been Mel’s idea to do an office wide Secret Santa to get in the Holiday spirit. Of course no one but Melanie was enthused.

“Oh I didn't forget Mel, I just don’t really have the budget for any extra gifts this year,” Verena tried to explain and Mel’s permanent smile faltered for only a second.

“Oh but Verena you have to, I’ve already put your name in the jar which means someone has more than likely pulled it. If you don’t take a name that means someone will end up giving a gift but not receiving one. That would be tragic,” Mel instantly bargains, layering on the guilt in a way only someone this fake nice could.

Trying not to lose her temper or say something to set the girl off, all Verena does in response is dip her hand into the jar and pull a slip of paper before walking away and back to her desk. Mel just grins, shaking the jar with only a few remaining slips before scurrying away in search of her next victim.

“Mel get you too?”

Looking up, Verena found her cubicle neighbor's floppy brown hair pop over the makeshift wall before revealing his signature grin. Charlie Dalton thrived on pushing her buttons and this one was fresh and new. At least it was better than the usual flying pen over the wall of her cubicle in the middle of the day.

“Didn’t you hear, it would be absolutely tragic if I didn't participate,” Verena mocked the girl's words and Charlie chuckled slightly as he folded his arms over the felt wall.

“Devastating actually, she caught me by the water fountain. I was told it wasn’t in the Christmas spirit if I didn't participate,” Charlie says, flashing his own slip of paper between his two fingers. Held so casually like a boy who smoked one too many cigarettes in school to look cool.

“Jokes on her, your lack of effort in anything around here guarantees zero enthusiasm when it comes to Christmas spirit,” Verena teases, having finished Charlie’s workload one too many times herself. His boyish charm and vendetta to breeze by had everyone else here under some spell. Leaving her with the extra work while everyone else mooned over him in the break room.

“I’m excited to prove you wrong, Ver.” He grins before disappearing behind the wall once again. Both of them knew it would only be another hour or so until he got bored and would bother her again.

After a few minutes pass and she knows he isn’t going to continue the conversation any longer, she finally focuses on the slip of paper Mel had given her. Peeling apart the fold just to find the one name in the entire office she didn't want it to be.

Charlie Dalton

Friday December 10th 1965, 5:11 pm

Snow whips by the window in a heavy gust of a wind, the kind of weather that has Verena wrapping her scarf an extra loop around her neck before pulling her jacket on. It was her favorite time, the end of the work week, and no amount of crazy weather would stop her from leaving this place as fast as she could.

The elevator dropped quickly and she was in the home stretch as her heels clicked across tiled floors to the front doors. She didn't question the people that lingered in the lobby or the lack of cars on the busy city streets until she stepped outside just to be nearly knocked over by the wind.

“Sorry Doll, but unless you have wings you're not making it home for another few hours or so,” Charlie sultry drawl called to her from one of the building's canopy posts. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she turned to face him just to find him bundled tightly in a long coat, a bare hand shaking as it held an unlit cigarette, the end burnt like Charlie had been fighting the wind for one good drag.

“How come whenever you're nearby there seems to be some sort of issue?” she accuses, tired and feeling her previous excitement deflating by the second.

“Normally I’d agree but even I’m not powerful enough to control the weather, taxis are shut down until the roads are cleared. You're better off waiting inside with the rest of those folks,” he says as he removes his other bare hand from his coat pocket, flicking a lighter that refuses to stay lit in this cold.

“I’ll just walk to the subway,” you tell him, starting in that direction and eager to be in the warmth of your apartment with your favorite pajamas on and a cup of hot cocoa.

“Not in those shoes you won’t, it's eight blocks and a half foot of snow on every sidewalk,” he says as he gives up on the cigarette, shoving both items in his pocket as he stalks towards you. You realize that he probably would forcefully hold you back if it came to it. You knew you should've packed boots.

“I can’t spend another minute in that office Dalton,” you finally say, trying your best to be transparent with him, and holding back a shiver as another gust of wind hits you both.

“There’s a bar around the corner, let me buy you a drink while we wait for the taxis,” he says and you stare at him hard. Every part of you screams not to, another hour with the boy seemed like torture, and you were desperate for some alone time. Yet for some reason the paper with his name on it burns in your pocket and you're reminded you have not a clue what to buy him.

“Hopefully it's quick.”

Tuesday December 14th 1965, 10:40am

“Ouch,’ Verena winces as her head bumps underneath the desk. A chuckle sounds from above her and with a hand pressed to the back of her head she looks up to see Charlie Dalton laughing over his cup of coffee.

“You’re supposed to work above your desk, not under it,” he informs her, sipping from the steaming cup as Verena adjusted her skirt to cover the top of her thighs again.

“No shit Dalton, someone forgot to lock Lord Byron's cage and I’ve been looking for him all morning,” she was quite certain it was Charlie who forgot to lock the cage since he was the last name on the feeding schedule. Now she was hours behind on paperwork and still no hamster in sight.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asks and Verena scowls, having actually gone to his cubicle this morning just to find he hadn't been at his desk and was socializing in the break room. She had gotten a little too comfortable with him at the bar last Friday, letting him buy her not one but three drinks. Investigating gift ideas was a bust and all she recalled now was his face being too close to hers as he helped her into a cab.

“I tried, but someone was busy avoiding work all day, and if you remembered to feed him last night as scheduled, this whole thing is your fault,” she accused, scooting from under the desk and begrudgingly accepting his hands as he hauled her up to her feet.

“I could've sworn I closed it,” he says, more than likely assuming the worst of the office pet just like Verena had all morning. She could see poor little Lord Byron now, trapped in some vent or wedged between the fax machine. How could one find a three inch long hamster in a whole New York City office level?

“It doesn't matter now. Listen, I’ll finish searching this side of the office, you take the other. Hopefully the little guy will show up,” Verena says, gesturing to the area untouched and he nods, rushing off in hopes a hamster death wouldn’t be on his hands.

Verena doesn't understand the small rush of guilt she feels as she watches him leave.

Friday December 17th 1965, 9:25am

“Something's off,” Melanie whispers over to Verena, not expecting the voice to appear beside her as she stirred some sugar into her coffee. Verena gazed over at her, curious why Melanie was suddenly acting like they were casual friends.

“What do you mean?” She couldn't help but ask, curious about the girl's motives and hoping she wasn't about to receive a second Secret Santa or some other odd Christmas duty.

“Charlie, he’s actually working and he hasn't left his desk to socialize for the past two days. Is he sick or something?” Melanie asks, it dawning on Verena that being desk neighbors with the boy implied she’d have intel other office members don't. Shockingly Verena did know the answer to Charlie's odd behaviour. It had everything to do with a brown and white hamster who had yet to appear.

“His health seems fine to me, maybe something's going on in his home life,” Verena offered, that guilty feeling returning. She had never expected Charlie to be so upset over losing the hamster, considering he always tried to pass his feeding shifts onto her. She felt bad that she was the reason he was so burdened by this.

“Well whatever it is, let me know when you figure it out. We all know you're his favorite,” Mel says and shock paints Verena features, eliciting a laugh from the bubbly girl. “Don’t tell me you didn't know?”

“I am not his favorite, he’s constantly bugging me,” Verena defends and Melanie rolls her eyes, starting for the break room door.

“Honey, that's why he bugs you,” she reassures and slips back out into the maze of cubicles before Verena could defend her judgment further.

Turning back to her coffee, Verena tries to shake away her thoughts about the brown haired boy. Is it possible she had everything wrong this whole time? It didn't make sense, Charlie had made some of her weeks here miserable, leaving behind projects, stealing her pens and usually returning them by being thrown at her head. If that was deemed favoritism then you'd have to argue that Charlie hadn't outgrown playground crush behavior. He was immature but Verena had seen him flirt with other interns and salesgirls, this was not the same.

Verena’s thoughts were interrupted by the breakroom door pushing open once again, the boy on her mind stepping through like she had somehow summoned him. Verena offered a pressed smile, stepping away from the coffee pot Charlie was more than likely approaching. Curious to see if he’d say anything to her, she slipped into a chair at one of the tables. Yet the more time that passed, the more she realized something really was off with him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you–.”

“Do you hear that?”

Both of them speak at the same time, Charlie not registering Verena’s words at all. Instead he stares hard at the fridge and Verena stands, watching as he studies it. They're both frozen and suddenly the faintest scratching sound appears to be coming from behind it. They both jump to action, hands grabbing either side of the fridge as they try to pull it from the wall. It's heavy and awkward, and once it's about a foot away it becomes wedged between the counter tops, no amount of force from either of them getting it to move.

“Spot me,” Verena suddenly says, kicking off her wedges and swinging a leg atop the counter. Charlie's eyes widen as she squeezes her slim shoulders between the wall and the back of the fridge, dipping behind it with determination. Charlie scrambles towards her, hands clasping her waist as she bends further and further down. Verena for once is thankful for her long limbs as her hand grasps around the familiar coat of none other than Lord Byron.

“You got him!” Charlie cheers as she reappears from behind the fridge, his hands still on her waist as he helps her sit atop of the counter. Verena goes to present the small rodent in victory, but to both her and Charlie's surprise, he has her wrapped tightly in a hug. Lord Bryon wiggling in her palm.

“Look, he's perfectly fine,” Verena says awkwardly as he loosens his grip, backing away from her. Not noticing her awkwardness due to the contact. She passes the small pet to him, watching as he looks at it apologetically. He’s so gentle and the image reminds her of his large hands that were just wrapped around her waist moments ago.

“I’m so happy you're back little guy,” he whispers before looking back up at the girl, smiling wider than he had since the hamster had been lost. Verena can't help but match the smile, tucking some of her hair behind her ears. “Thanks for grabbing him, I’m going to take him back to his cage and make sure he’s fed.”

“Anytime,” she nods, watching as Charlie rushes out the breakroom, leaving her on the counter with tight clad feet dangling as she wonders why her whole body has been buzzing since he touched her. It was just Charlie and yet for some reason when she recalls the way he hugged her, a blush covers her cheeks.

Wednesday December 22nd 1965, 2:17pm

“Don’t forget everyone, Secret Santa gifts will be exchanged Friday at 11am! Only two days left to make sure you have the perfect gift!” Melanie calls out to the whole office and Verena winces at the reminder. In the last two weeks Charlie had evolved from the annoying guy at work into the semi annoying, charmingly irresistible, makes Verena’s skin feel like fire guy.

“I totally forgot,” Charlie suddenly whispers over the top of the cubicle and Verena snorts out a laugh, glancing up at him as she mulls over her gift options for him once again. A cigarette case with his initials engraved, a bottle of the same whiskey he ordered that snowy night in the bar, a new tie. None of them seemed to reflect the way she felt about him now.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” she says, knowing it took her reminding him twenty times to finish something at work. Had no one brought up Secret Santa until today, he probably wouldn't have bought a thing.

“My friend Neil from school used to get so mad when I would wait till the last minute to buy my gifts. I almost always wrote him poems instead, he appreciated it much more than the cigarettes, playboys, or random snacks I would usually buy him,” Charlie told her and her eyebrows furrow, the thought of Charlie of all people writing poems beyond her imagination.

“Poems?” she inquires and he chuckles, not the least bit surprised by this reaction.

“Yes poems, you know there is a reason I intern in a publishing office instead of work for Daddy,” he tells her and Verena finds herself surprised, smiling at him like her preconceived notion of him was suddenly all wrong.

“Yeah but you’re always leaving your work for me,” she teases and Charlie chuckles, hand tapping against the short wall that separates them both.

“That’s because as much as I love it, I’m also a procrastinator,” he tells her and she's not the least bit surprised at this confession. Everyone had their faults, at least Charlie was willing to own up to his.

“I’m sure your Dad is still pissed you chose this instead,” Verena says as grabs her coffee, needing something to distract her from getting lost in his eyes or staring at him hard enough it gives away her feelings. Her attraction to him snuck up on her, the last thing she needed was Charlie knowing.

“Not quite, he gave me a year. He said I could try my hand at this ‘unrealistic’ dream of mine and if I hadn’t been hired full time by the end of the year, I am to go and work for him,” Charlie explains, a hand reaching to rub the back of his neck. His fathers expectations for him was the only thing that still made him feel like a child.

At this confession, Verena realizes all that socializing wasn't just Charlie avoiding work but also trying to form connections. A tactic to get in the good graces of people who worked here, nurture friendships that could potentially give him the future he wanted, and not the one that was already paved out for him. A wave of respect for him washes over her quickly.

“Every day you surprise me more and more Charlie,” Verena finally says, no longer fighting the part of herself that yearns to know more and more about him. Charlie shrugs, grinning like that had been his plan all along.

“So it shouldn't be a surprise when I ask for your help with sales reports?”

Friday December 24th 1965, 10:53am

Verena’s hand shook around the neatly wrapped present in her hands. Coworkers of varying degrees all loitered around the small Christmas tree Melanie had set up beside the table of different cookies she more than likely baked herself. It was a lot of effort to give for a crowd of people who were counting the minutes until noon when they could go home and celebrate with their families.

“Dont be shy everyone, gather around and in a few moments we’ll exchange,” Melanie's shrill voice interrupted the chatter. Verena spots Charlie across the room, eyes locking as he offers a soft smile. Her heart pounds harder in her chest.

People shuffle around, eager to get this over with and probably the smallest hint of excitement over what they may receive. In the jumble, Verena’s eyes break from Charlie's and she has no time to search for him as Melanie pulls a chair to the center of the circle and stands up in front of everyone.

“Well, it seems like everyone is here. So take your time and exchange! Happy Holidays!” she announces before stepping down from the chair. Verena pushes past a few people, walking in the direction of where Charlie just stood.

The chatter picks back up, people squealing and laughing as they give and receive gifts. The system is a mess considering everyone was hunting a different person. Verena is certain she’s lost Charlie in the crowd to whoever he had bought a gift for. Yet she still searches for even a flash of floppy brown hair and big doe eyes, even his wide smirk.

“Ver?” a familiar voice calls her off her search, fingers tapping her shoulder. She turns to find the very person she had been looking for, a sheepish smile on his face as he holds out a small gift bag in her direction.

“Charlie?” she’s unable to hide her surprise, eyes flickering between him and the gift.

“Look it's not much, but you deserved something good after putting up with me all the time,” he says and she shakes her head, hoping her shock didn't come across as disappointment in any way.

“No, it's just... Well here,” Verena holds out the carefully wrapped package and it's his turn to look surprised. Of all the people in the office, by some chance they both happened to pull the others' names.

“For me?” he asks and she nods, watching as he grabs it, his fingers tearing into the paper. Verena can't help but smile as he pries open the box, revealing the book that took her searching three vintage book stores to find. After their conversation on Wednesday the idea suddenly came to her, the perfect gift.

“It’s a collection of Byron's greatest poems. I’m sure you know most of them but since you found our little hamster friend, I figured you'd like to revisit a few,” she tells him as he opens the cover page to find her handwriting neatly inside.

To Charlie,

A peace offering since this whole time I had you all wrong. You are smarter, kinder, and stronger than I ever knew. I’m sorry I didn't notice it before.

Merry Christmas! Love, Verena

“It's perfect,” Charlie says, swallowing hard as he absorbs the words she had written down. He closes the book back up, tucking it to his side as he stares her down. Realizing what he wants, she pulls the tissue paper from the top of the bag to find a notebook she’d seen him carrying around the office before.

“What’s this?” she questions, prepared for him to admit he had forgotten a gift and in its place he borrowed something from his desk.

“I told you I wasn't good at buying presents but I am good with my words, sometimes,” he explains and Verena curiously opens the book to find pages upon pages filled with short poems, notes, and drawings all about her. The corner of each page dated from the first week he had started working here until just yesterday.

“Charlie, I don't know what to say,” she begins, shaking her head as happy tears well in her eyes. She had felt silly the last two weeks, developing feelings for the boy who had done nothing but driven her nuts. All those times he had picked on her and she had been so rude to him, just for him to have a soft spot for her all along.

“It's nothing, you were bound to stumble upon it at some point. I just sped up the process,” he says just as her eyes catch over some words describing her beauty, how the sound of her laughter fluttering from the other side of the cubicle wall was the best part of some of his days. Words evading her, she feels the rush of emotions wash over her, eyes studying the boy in front of her and feeling a surge of appreciation for him hit her.

“Oh Charlie,” is all she can say before pressing her lips against his. He's shocked at first, Verena's arms coiling around his neck until he realizes this was entirely real. Eyes fluttering closed, he draws her in closer by the waist, kissing her back with a hunger that had been burning inside of him since the very first day they had met.

“This might just be the best Christmas yet,” Charlie says breathily when they break apart for air, foreheads pressed together and wide smiles covering each of their faces. Verena giggles, shocked from her own actions but oddly happier than she’s ever been.

“For once I just might agree with you,” Verena says and Charlie laughs, happy she had gone from despising him to whatever this was. He couldn't wait to discover more of it.

“So what do you say? Me, Lord Byron, and a Christmas Eve date tonight?” Charlie asks, pulling back to stare down her beautiful features, seeing her bright eyes shining back at him with a fondness he had never noticed before. He hoped it never went away.

when todd can’t sleep he looks up at the ceiling

he thinks of the bed, the feeling of the blanket, the feeling that he’s not use to it

his first few nights in welton wasn’t so pleasant. he couldn’t sleep.

but once he gets used to it, he gets some sleep

when he’s up at the dead of night- its either he’s anxious about something or a nightmare woke him

he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. but no, he couldn’t.

when he can’t sleep, he looks at neil- maybe watches his steady breathing. admiring how he could sleep.

he sits up, looks out the window. he tries to recollect some thoughts for him to sleep.

neil sometimes notices this. there are times neil couldn’t sleep as well.

“why are you up this late?” he would always ask. neil helps him sleep- whether that be reading a poem/novel or reading his lines from the play he’s starring in

it helps todd sleep.

when neil passed away, he couldn’t genuinely get some sleep.

neil’s absence and the turn of uncertain events bothered him for a while

so when he can’t sleep, he stares at the empty bed across him. he imagines what would it be like if he weren’t to pass away

todd thinks of a substitute. he then tries to read some poems to himself or any form of literature to help him sleep.

in some cases it helped but at some time it didn’t work.

so he stares out the window like he does before, he stares at the ceiling, he thinks of his bed and blanket.

todd started to register the events that had happen. neil’s death, charlie getting expelled, keating leaving the institution. it wasn’t a doubt that he shed a tear for him to sleep.

he missed neil- that’s for sure.

Since the whole Wellington fiasco, your uncle has been let go of his teaching position in the school and he left for London, meaning you had to go back home. In the middle of the year, you had to switch schools and leave. 

Your love has promised you devotion and loyalty and as much as you trusted him, that mischivious look in his eyes caused you doubts. But he did write you more letters a day, call you every time he thought of his crazy ideas. Slepless nights for both you were filled with laughter and long talks. It got you through the impatience in the moment but after it always ended up with more cravings to see him. 

You worked all summer, multiple jobs for your tuition in Cornell. Your parents weren’t keen on helping you but your uncle, however, decided to help generously. You felt selfish for taking so much money but he insisted as if it was nothing to him. He told you that if he doesn’t give the money to his family, than who will he give it to? 

Charlie had a more complicated story than you. His parents were ashamed of him and of what he did. They kicked him out because it wasn’t the first time he was expelled from a school. They told him he was an embarrasment for them and himself. Knox, however, was from a really kind family and they took Charlie in for those few months before he could get on his own feet. Charlie didn’t know how to start his own life. How to be responsible but you were always there to support him. Knox was there to support him and so were his other friends. His first job was in a jazz club where he started to play the saxophone. He was so darn happy about it and he kept calling you after every performance, just screaming at the phone anything that came to his mind. He started paying Mr. Overstreet for rent and he wanted to pay for the food as well but they just didn’t let him. Later, he got himself an old, cramped apartment, loving it with all his heart and sould. He bought himself a typewriter right after and started to write as well. Some days you went crazy because of his writing. He just disappeared behind that typewriter for days but eventually you got your letter and his promised call. 

So here you were. In front his door with a luggage, smiling like crazy. You told him that you’re coming in a week but you wanted to surprise him. You wanted to see him and you wanted to be romantic and cute. You had it all planned out but when it came to it, you were just so happy and nervous that you couldn’t even think straight. 

“Come on. Pick up.” you heard his voice from the other side and you felt your heart jump to your throat. “Come on, (y/n)... I know you’re probably lying in bed and eating chips.” you laughed at that. 

Yeah, if you were home right now, you probably would. 

You pressed your finger to the doorbell and it let out it’s ring. 

“Be there in a minute!” he shouted and you felt your cheeks hurting from the smile. Your stomach was in a tight knot, your hands clammy. He didn’t move. You pressed the doorbell again. 

“I SAID I’LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!” he shouted angrily but you just kept ringning until he stormed to the door and opened them with with a strong pull, preparing to yell but as soon as his eyes saw you, they spread wide. He didn’t even think a second before pulling you into his embrace, almost knocking you off your feet. 

He had you close to him, pressing you closer and closer. His arms were larger than you remember, his chest broader, his chin growing a stubble and yet he still smelt like vanilla- and sweat but at this point you didn’t care because him was all you needed. Him and his wamrth, him and his whole energy. It overwhelmed you to the point you started to cry, tears falling down your cheeks because you were just so overjoyed of being with him. 

It was better than romantic and better than just cute, it was heaven. He was a mess of a heaven but still so much and so out of this world. Everything- undescribable. He pulled away, cupping your face and taking a look at you, for a moment or two before taking you back into his embrace, gentler this time. 

“What are you doing here? I thought it you would come in a week.” he mumbled into you.

“I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to surprise you.” you smiled and he pulled away again, observing every goddess like feature on you. 

“You’re crying.” he said seriously, brushing your tears with his thumbs. 

“I’m happy.” you let fat tears roll down your cheeks once again. He stretched his lips into a wide beam and pulled you into a kiss- a kiss that made your head spin, a kiss where lust wasn’t even present. It was love- so much love in that kiss and it was the first time you ever felt it. First time you felt this amount of love in one kiss and you wanted it to last forever. You wanted this love, his love, this kiss to just be infinite. His growing stubble tickled your face but at the same time it was a pleasant feeling. You grabbed his shirt, twisted it in your fists and pulled him down on you, deepening the kiss and making him smile. He grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you up. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist and he took you into the apartment. 

You pulled away, lookng at the suitcases outside. “My luggage.” 

“It can wait.” 

---

“My luggage is still outside.” you said as you watched your hand play with his. He smiled and mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear, turning your head around only for him to nuzzle closer in the crook of your neck and giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. His beard brushed along your shoulder, causing goosebumps to appear on your bare skin. He smiled, pleased, and kissed the top of your shoulder. 

His body, pressed against you and covered with coffee- coloured sheets, was pleasingly warm against yours. You turned around, so that now you were faced to face with the boy you have been so desperately waiting for and you notice something. 

He was looking at you differently. It was as if his eyes weren’t the same as the last time you saw them. The were soothing and lazy at the same time. He blinked slowly, tenderly and his mouth was curved into a small yet doting smile. 

“I’m in love with you.” he said quietly and solemnly. 

Your smile stretched wide on your reddened cheeks and you couldn’t stop. Your cheeks reached up your eyes and it only caused him to say it one more time. He dragged his arm up to your face and played with the hair on the side of your hair. “I love you, (y/n)(y/l/n) and I have never been more thankful for that ball hitting my face.” 

You laughed, dragging your own hand up to his cheek where the dark stubble was growing, you brushed your palm against it and looked up at his adoring eyes. “I love you too, Charlie “Nuwanda” Dalton.” you said and he chuckled. 

“That’s right.” he leaned it to kiss you, climbing on top of you. “Nuwanda.” he kissed your jaw, then slowly making his way to your neck. “Say it.” 

You put your hands under his jaw and pulled him up, looking deep into his eyes and smiling. “Luggage.” you pushed his shoulders, stood up from the bed and hearing him whine behind you. 

“It’s not like it’s going anywhere.” he grabbed a pillow and put it over his head. You shuffled over his warderobe, finding your favorite shirt of his and putting it on. Your fingers were doing the buttons and before you were halfway done, arms wrapped themselves around you and your lover kissed your cheek softly. “Come back to bed.” his hands placed themselves on top of yours, drawing up to the buttons of this shirt and starting to undo them. “Did I tell you how much I love you in my shirts?” he paused, turning you around and pressing your hips against the warderobe. “Especially in my favorite shirt?” his eyebrow quirked and he kissed you down, trying to undo the button but his fingers kept slipping. 

“You know what I love seeing you in?” you said seductively and he pulled away, looking at you michiviously. 

“What?” 

“Carrying my luggage before someone steals it.” you moved out of his hold and slipped away. 

“You are just cruel, (y/n)(y/l/n).”

“And you are...” you drifted off, walking into the living room and looking around. Your feet dug into the furry carpet beneath you meanwhile your fingers brushed against the bookshelves and open books on the desk. You could see sentances being underlined with a red pencil. You smiled and sat down at his desk, letting your eyes observe the sentances and his own messy handwriting. Completely deaf to the racket on the hall, your fingers flipped the pages and stopped when you saw something red written on the bottom of the page. 

The sentance was underlined. 

“Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.”

You smiled widely at the sentance, lifting up the book and trying to see the cover but before you could, a piece of paper fell out of it. 

You bent down to pick it up, seeing it covered in red already. Opening it, you start to read it. 

You saw so much red, crossed: ‘Hemingway believed that you cannot love more than one- What? No!’ you smiled, reading on. ‘I don’t know what Heminway believed because I only read one of his books and all I kept thinking was her her her. She can’t get out of my head. I can still feel her so close but she is so far away. I feel like losing my mind- am I losing my mind? Maybe?’

You saw some scribbles on the top of the page, some crossed words you couldn’t figure out and some drawings al around. 

“You shouldn’t read those. It’s private.” you looked up to see him leaning on the door frame. 

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’re too goddamn sexy and that I am too goddamn wrapped around your finger to let you do whatever you want.” he was now close, leaning down and flicking his eyes onto the paper. “Ah!” he smiled. “Hemingway.” he grabbed the list and walked away, looking down on it. He chuckled and turned back to you, running his hand down his chin. 

“What?” you tilted your head. 

“Nothing.” he said, folding the paper pack and leaning on the armrest. “Glad you read it because I would suck at saying it.” 

“You mean that I was always stuck in your head?” 

“You were- you still are.” he kept watching you from a far, looking so devilishly sexy. 

You dug your feet into the rug and let them drag behind you as you walked towards him. “What exactly was I doing in your mind?” you spoke seductively, brushing your lips against him and pulling away to see his eyes turn shades. 

His lips turned into a amused curve and his eyebrow followed. He stood up, letting his hand slip under your shirt and pull you close. He kissed you, slowly and biting your lower lip as he pulled away. “This.” the tension started to relax as you saw him grow confused for a second, he let his forehead rest on yours and he let out a low breath. 

“Charlie?” you cupped his face, seeing his eyes filled with not their usual spark- no, something quite foreign. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” you started to feel a bit insecure about your actions, the redness staining your face. 

He looked up at you, smiling. “Nothing, love. Nothing at all. It’s just...”

“Just?” 

“Just you in general. You and me and us- the idea of us...” he drifted off and you could feel him getting nervous, causing you to share the same feeling. “I wanna marry you, (y/n).” he finally blurted out and you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yerr-” you couldn’t form a word, let alone an answer. 

“I know, it’s- I’m sorry, I just- forget it.” he moved away but you pulled him back.

“Forget it?” you pulled him back and smiled completely bewildered. “What made you think of marrying me?” 

 He took a deep breath in and took your hands. “Guess there’s really not going back now, is there?” he smiled nervously.

“No, there isn’t.”

“I know how it was. I know what happened between us and since that first time, that first time for us I was so scared. I was scared of you so much but only God knows that I was already done for you. I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n). I just can’t. I tried, for a second and sometimes it worked but I just started to miss you and I think that is quite weird. I don’t think it’s normal for me to spend so much time on you- you and only you. I love you, (y/n)(y/l/n) and I want to spend my whole life with you. I know we are young and might be stupid right now but I feel it. I feel it with you. I know it’s you and I can’t let anybody else have you. I need you and I want you- you’re crying again.” he widened his eyes. “Is it because you’re happy? Please tell me it’s  because you’re happy.” the worry grew in his eyes but you just kept nodding.

“I’m happy.” you said, tears rolling down your eyes. “I’m so happy.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to him. 

You let out a happy sigh at the thought, and your breath fogs up the glass, temporarily obscuring your view of the winter wonderland outside. At some point, you’ll have to go back outside again, and risk the sensation in your hands and feet for the reward of getting home, but as for right now, you’re safe to sit inside and stay warm another hour.

You’re supposed to be studying, but it’s too cozy in here, the woven weight of your sweater too comfortable. Your pen fell from your hand a while ago, lying idly against a half-finished essay on the role of trade in seventeenth century empire building, and you eye it distastefully. You should keep going, make some actual progress instead of daydreaming, but you don’t particularly want to, so you don’t, and cast your eye about for another distraction instead.

That one is quite easy to find. Although you’re not a Welton student yourself, one of your favorite people in the world is, and he’d snuck you in easily enough since none of the faculty wanted to exert themselves in upholding the rules on a cold day like this one. This is not your first time in the halls of Welton Academy, nor will it be your last. You met Steven Meeks what feels like a lifetime ago, came to know him as a friend and better, and you’ve never looked back once. The rest of his friends, the self-proclaimed Dead Poets Society, accepted you into their ranks with only some mild hedging on Cameron’s part, and now the thought of their world without you in it seems more ridiculous than the inverse.

Steven had invited you here so you could be a good influence on each other, studying-wise: he was supposed to be wrapping up some homework on advanced pre-calculus, and you had that stupid trade essay that really needed revising. It seemed like a good enough plan, two people trapped in a room until they finished their work, but instead you’ve been lost in thought for at least half an hour, and Steven– well, you’re pretty sure Steven’s supposed to have been totally immersed in the unit circle, but instead he’s been fairly well occupied with adjusting the knobs on his radio, sin and cos be damned.

Smiling, you cross the room to take a seat at Steven’s parts table. “How’s the math homework going?” You ask pointedly.

His lips prop up in a self-deprecating grin. “About the same as the essay, I imagine.”

You glance guiltily at the abandoned papers on your desk. “Touché. Well? What improvements have you made this time?”

Steven straightens up proudly, clearly happy to have been asked. “Well, nothing major, just a few tweaks, but I think I’ve managed to improve the radius of signal input, which would definitely help with that signal-to-noise ratio issue, other than adjusting the gain, I mean, and–”

He lapses into muttering, prodding again at an antenna on the top of the box, and your heart warms at the sight. Never change, Steven Meeks. No matter what the others tell you.

“So you’ll be able to pick up other channels?” You ask, curious.

“I’ll be able to pick up a channel, hopefully,” he gripes. “Nothing but static so far. Which is annoying, because really all of this should work.”

“Maybe your radio is working fine and the other stations are having trouble because of the snow?” You ask.

Steven shrugs. “Maybe. Guess we’ll find out,” he says suddenly, screwing one last panel into place again and reaching for the dial once more.

Loud static issues from the speakers, and Steven winces, hurriedly turning down the sound. “Sorry, sorry.”

Once your ears are safe, he starts searching for channels again. At first, it’s not looking good, but then there, in between bursts of irregular static, you hear something, a single note, then two. “There!” You say excitedly.

Steven nods, focusing on the station you’d heard. All of a sudden, it comes into clear, crisp focus, and you realize you recognize the tune, one of those cheerful pop melodies that had been playing on the radio the last time you’d driven over here. Steven throws his hands in the air, celebrating like a little kid, then jumps to his feet, pulling you up with him a second later.

“It works!” He crows excitedly.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re a genius, Steven Meeks.”

“We’re geniuses,” he corrects happily. “You and me.”

Steven reaches down, takes your hands, and starts to dance along with the song. You dance with him, not always able to keep your pace for laughing, and let him spin you. You don’t know all of the words, but you sing the ones you do, and Stven’s more or less able to match you. You’re both viciously off-key, but the real melody is somewhere between the two of you, and that’s basically the same thing as both of you getting it right.

The light shines on the lenses of Steven’s glasses, making his eyes sparkle. The red of his hair matches the flush of his cheeks as he dances you around the room. Your ribs ache slightly from laughing too hard, but it’s a pleasant sort of ache, similar to the burn of the wind on your blushing face when you'll have to brave the cold to go home tonight. These are the sorts of pains we couldn’t live without.

The door swings open, and Gerard Pitts leans in, looking confused, although his expression quickly melts to pride when he hears what’s playing. “Don’t tell me you got the radio working!”

“Ah, so that’s what this ruckus was?” He’s interrupted by Charlie Dalton, elbowing past him with a rakish grin on his face. “We were starting to wonder what horseplay the two of you were getting up to.”

You roll your eyes. “Just engineering brilliance, Charlie. Go back to harassing another first-year.”

Charlie clutches a hand to his chest in mock agony. “You accuse me of harassment? Other students would vie for the pleasure of my company, L/N. You wound me.”

Steven snorts. “You wound us more, Dalton.”

Charlie laughs. “Bullies, you two. Fine, then, Pitts, we’ll take our business elsewhere. I can see we’re not wanted here.”

He wiggles his eyebrows ferociously before Pitts groans and pulls him out of the room. They disappear down the hall, but not before Charlie manages to shout something about keeping the door cracked for the sake of posterity.

Steven sighs in annoyance at the interruption, but you don’t miss the way his face has gone a sudden, flaming red at Charlie’s comment. You’re not completely unaffected either, but you manage to sit back down at the table with the radio, glancing at Steven with an expression of excitement. “Well? Should we see what other channels are out there?”

Steven smiles again, a real smile, the kind he only ever lets slip around you. “Yeah, I think we will.”

The snow sparkles outside your window, chillingly cold but stunningly beautiful. Inside, you’re warm, you’re happy, and you haven’t yet noticed the way Steven watches you like you watch the new snowfall, as if you were the most fascinating person in the world, and, secretly, as if you were his.

dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal