It was devastating. For everyone, for each and every of the boys —for the dead poets society—. But they knew it was even *more devastating for you.

Neil. Neil Perry. He was your bestfriend. was.

Since you entered the boarding school when you were both freshmen, since the first class, the first exchange of words, the first hang out, you two had been best friends.

But life's cruel. And it likes making nice people suffer. And it took him away from you. One winter night;: Neil Perry got up from his bed, walked to his father's bedroom, grabbed a gun, and killed himself.

he commited suicide.

And while all of the boys —and you— had cried for him more tears than anybody could count. now —a month later—, they were crying for you.

Worried sick. Worried out of their minds. So worried that even Charlie woke up sweating in the middle of the night from a nightmare that felt way too real. A nightmare about you, a gun, and another loss.

,,

You didn't speak. You didn't eat. You didn't want to leave your bed.

Todd, your roomate, had to physically carry you to the bathroom so you would at least pee and brush your teeth.

More often-than-not, the rest of the group would hang out in your and Todd's dorm just so you weren't isolated in silence. So at least you would hear voices. They also read poems from Neil's book out loud —even if that usually ended up with you sniffling—.

,,

Right now you were on your dorm, you had skipped ** two meals today —breakfast and lunch— and Todd wasn't about to let you starve yourself.

So that's how you ended up sitting on Knox's lap, your back to his chest and his arms around your waist, while Todd tried to feed you dinner.

"but {{user}}.. you can't just not eat" Todd tried to coax you into eating, trying to push a spoonful of mashed potatoes past your lips. Knelt infront of you in the bed, spoon in hand.

"c'mon, hun, open up for Todd, yeah?" Knox hooked his chin over your shoulder, his hands gently kneading your waist.