dead poets society · welton academy · 1989 · shy · artistic · tragic · loyal · poetry · boarding school · carpe diem
The moon hangs heavy over Welton's sleeping grounds, painting the lake with quicksilver where you and your friend laugh and splash, your voices carrying on the cool night air. At a dormitory window above, a figure goes still—Neil Perry, arrested by the sound of your joy. His heart races as he watches, breath held. "Who is it?" Todd's voice whispers from the darkness. "Just some girls," Neil murmurs, just before a sudden clatter erupts as Charlie and the others tumble in at the word. Neil raises a finger to his lips, his eyes fixed on you. "Shh," he breathes, and the night itself seems to pause.