Nobody Knows This Little Rose - Dead Poets Society x Reader

9

"I keep my breath in a bell jar

Where vapor fogs the glass

To pass on to those afar,

Remind them of the past.

In that glass bell jar will lie

Empiricism to be deciphered.

Solemn tales do testify

Courses of action undesired.

If naught but prose of woe

This little jar contained,

Euphoric actuality reposes;

A tempest of doubt remains.

Cultivation of simple happiness

Evaporates, runs fallow.

Greed for material becomes ravenous

A world more mournful than a weeping willow

A constellation of compassion resides inside

So that the dreams of hopeful idealists magnify"

Something happened in the room as she read. Her words seemed to flutter around the air. The breeze outside stopped, and the heartbeats of the boys sitting around the room seemed to synchronize - just for a moment. Most glassy-eyed of all, staring up at the girl before them as if she were a phantom, a mere ghost from their wildest dreams were Neil, Todd, and Meeks. 

A palpable hush had settled over the room, and there was a long pause after her words stopped gracing the air with their presence. It was evident that her voice held some sort of spell over poetry that the others hadn't. Some kind of sonorous musicality unique to her.

Not one to break a meaningful silence, Keating had stayed quiet, staring over at his new student with not just awe; but respect as well. 

Not one to pass up a moment of attention, Charlie Dalton got to his feet and put his hands together in applause so aggressively, it made the whole class jump.

"YES." He shouted, and the rest of the class joined in, Neil putting his fingers to his mouth in a whistle.

"Now that, my friends, is what I call poetry." Mr. Keating said, walking over to y/n and beaming down at her. He added in an undertone, leaning in so only she could hear. "I would love it if you would send a copy of that poem over to me. I'd love to read it again" He patted her shoulder and she nodded, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she looked once again over at the room applauding her. 

She took her seat quietly, trying to deny the fact she loved the attention. She glanced sideways towards Meeks, trying to see what his reaction was (Although, she wasn't quite sure why she cared in particular what he thought - or at least that's what she told herself) But he was staring very intently at the hands folded in his lap. 

A few other boys were then called to read their poems. Stick had a remarkably good one, describing the horrors of the Korean War that Mr. Keating seemed very fond of. But as the other boys read, it served as a conversation mask for Charlie and Neil in the back of the room.

"So, she's in, right?" Charlie whispered, as though the point was obvious.

"We'll have to speak to the others, but yeah. I mean, it should be fine with them. But we'll ask." Neil said. 

"Can we have a meeting tonight? Induct her then?" Charlie asked with a smirk.

"Uh... yeah I don't see why not" Neil replied. "As long as she wants to join, y'know? Wouldn't want to force her"

"Oh, she'll want to join. I'm sure of it." Charlie said. He had been watching her this whole class. Watching, in fact for the past week, her interactions with a specific person. And that person's interactions with her.

Charlie Dalton was plotting again. That was for sure.