Genre: Romance, Tragedy
Pairing: N. Perry, T. Anderson
Series: Dead Poets Society
Rating: T
Word Count: 475
Length: One-Shot
Warnings: Plotline compliant
Note: Revised

He really did consider it, he realized, as he sat bare at the desk of his father's study. He really had considered it.

Giving up, he meant.

Giving up.

Withdrawing from Welton.

Enrolling in some military academy in god-knows-where.

Going to Harvard.

Becoming a doctor.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He wasn't going to give up. No, he was going to fight. He was going to show his father, his teachers, everyone, that Neil Perry was not weak. He was not a conformist. He made his own fate. He decided his own future; he decided for himself. No one could do that for him. No one could take that away from him.

And so he removed the gun from it's white cloth and held it, felt it, tested it's weight. He adjusted himself in the chair, letting its material rub up against his freezing skin. The moonlight felt almost bright to him as it streamed through the window, lightening the dark shadows in the corner of the room.

In the corners of the Earth.

In the corners of his life.

He slowly lifted the gun and raised it to his head, feeling the pressure on his temple and he couldn't decide whether to crack a grin or allow his eyes to tear up. As he moved his finger to the trigger, he thought of the people close to him.

Charlie, Knox, Cameron, Mr. Keating, Todd...

Especially Todd. In the back of his mind, somewhere, if he had stopped to realize, he felt some shame. He knew it would hit Todd the hardest, but he also knew that he'd be the only one to really understand. Sure, the others would eventually get over it, say they got him, but none of them really did.

It was only Todd. It'd only ever really been Todd. He was his roommate, his closest friend, practically his brother; maybe a little more. He wasn't sure if he knew what love was. Maybe what he felt for Todd was it. He was proud of him. He was learning to stand up and fight for himself and what he believed in, just as he himself was doing now.

They would make it through this, he knew. The both of them. Todd loved to write, and he loved to act. This was his last show, sold out and curtains closing. This was for himself. He needed to do this.

This was for himself; no one else. He would do this before the fear threatened to pour over and drown him, like it always did. He needed to break free and be his own person.

And so he did.

And so he fell.

And Neil had made his final stand.