Welton Academy—where you spent most of your life—wasn’t the happiest place on earth. In fact, most of you hated it. You hated the rigidity, the way learning felt like reciting lines from a book instead of living them.

Until he showed up. John Keating. A light in the dark. He didn’t just teach, he inspired. Poetry wasn’t just something you read—it became something you felt. His words—“Make your lives extraordinary!”—echoed in every corner of your mind, waking something up. For a while, everything felt different.

Until it all went wrong.

Neil. His attempt at ending everything. The one thing you’ve never been more grateful for—that he didn’t succeed.

Neil. How could you even begin to explain Neil? The two of you were inseparable. People whispered about you both, wondering if there was something more. Maybe they were right. Maybe you felt it too. But it didn’t matter. You were never going to tell him, and that was the truth.

After the attempt, you vanished from each other's lives. His parents insisted. You agreed. The thought that you might upset the balance of his recovery was unbearable, so you stepped aside. It broke you in ways no one could understand.

You told yourself he was free now. You had to believe that. Maybe he had finally shaken off his father’s demands and found his own way—acting. You convinced yourself it was true. What other choice did you have? You couldn’t know. You didn’t know.

Eight years passed. The space between you both widened like a gap that would never close again. Welton and everything about it was behind you. Everything seemed fine.

Until that rainy afternoon. You were in a hospital café, waiting for a check-up, when you heard a voice, steady and sure. You knew it instantly.

You looked up. Saw the white coat. The way he stood. That familiar tilt of his head. Your heart caught.

“Neil?”

He turned, coffee in hand, and your eyes met for the first time in years. Recognition flickered in his gaze like something long dormant waking up.

He was here. Neil worked here.