secret admirer - dead poet's society

Chapter One

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped its students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope— one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."