A/N - Buckle up, it's a long one. The chapter is more or less the plot of the movie Dead Poets Society but simplified with some character changes. Please don't read if you want to watch the movie, it's a really good one, although I definitely wouldn't watch it if you're sensitive to suicide. If you're one of those people, please don't read this either! 

Edit: Grrr it didn't save my edits so I had to unpublish it, sorry! It's all edited properly now.

TW: Heavy themes of suicide, swearing

Ranboo hesitantly opened the door to his dorm at his new boarding school, peeking in to see a few kids gathered on the right side bed and passing something around. As soon as they noticed he was there, they tucked it underneath the covers. "Um, hello, I'm Ranboo. I'm going to be... one of you guys' new roommate." He stumbled over his words but was saved as a tall, stick-thin blond bounded over to him and held his hand out with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Ranboo! I'm Tommy, I'm your roommate this year. These are my idiot friends - that one's Tubbo, there's Sapnap, that's Purpled, and those two are George and Dream." He pointed respectively to a small brunet who offered him a shy smile, a smirking guy wearing an orange bandana around his forehead, a blond boy in a purple hoodie, and two others cuddled up to each other - one short with dark brown hair, the other tall with blond hair.

All of them looked very friendly, but Ranboo found himself intimidated by the sheer number of strangers packed into this small space. He hustled over to the empty bunk on the left side of the room, dropping his duffle bag before turning around nervously. "It's nice to meet you all, I'm Ranboo. Although, you already knew that so..." 

Luckily, the boys knew how to make Ranboo feel welcome despite his awkward nature, and he quickly got to know the group. He gleaned that night that he had found himself among troublemakers with a passion for poetry, as was revealed when they brought out the object they had been hiding under the covers like it was illegal. They discreetly showed Ranboo the cover, The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson, and he promptly let out a barking laugh. 

"Why are you guys hiding a book about poetry? Don't we literally take an English class focusing on poetry?"

"Yes, but that's not the point," Tommy said a bit defensively, holding the book close to his chest. The group shared a look, all nodding slightly after a moment and leaving Ranboo baffled. Dream looked at Tommy, who raised his eyebrows. After holding the stare for a moment, Dream broke it with a loud sigh, taking the book from Tommy's outstretched hand. "We have... a secret club sort of thing. It's called the Dead Poets Society. We meet after curfew in a shack in the woods, and we just... read poetry."

Ranboo just stared at Dream for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. "Is reading poetry code for, you know... doing drugs?" He whispered the last part. "No, it's literally just poetry because they don't know how to have fun. Don't let them fool you; they're all nerds, just depressed." George piped up from Dream's lap, where Ranboo had thought he was sleeping. Apparently not. "Do you not go to the meetings?" Ranboo questioned. "He goes, he just insists that it's only for some excitement and rule-breaking, not for the poetry. But I know he likes it and has a few favorites," Dream teased, ruffling George's hair, who grumbled but didn't fight it. Ranboo wondered if they were dating. 

"Anyway, you're more than welcome to join us, Ranboo," Tommy offered. "Yeah, you seem really cool," Purpled spoke up, talking for perhaps the first time that entire evening. Ranboo blushed, and tried to play it off with a casual "sure, if I have time," but Tubbo poked him and giggled before they all filed out of the room to go to bed. 

When the dorm room was empty, Ranboo took that as a chance to unpack. "Ran?" Tommy said from the other bed. Ranboo was startled by the nickname but found he liked the sound of it. "You don't have to read at the first meeting, but if you want to, just pick a poem you like and read it. There's no judgment at the meetings, I promise. It's about acceptance and... finding a place of our own when our families hide us away in this shit fuckin' school. Anyway, you can take a look at my book if you want, or one of your own if you have any. It's up to you." With that, Tommy clicked the lamp on the bedside table off and rolled over, leaving Ranboo to mull over his words.

-

"That was great, Ranboo!" Tubbo said excitedly from his perch on a tree stump in the shack. The clapping died down, and Dream stood up. "Great reading for your first time, Ranboo. You picked one of our favorites - we're all fans of Poe here. I can tell you're gonna fit in great!" 

The past week, Ranboo had grown to adore this ragtag group of boys. He'd gone to his first classes, and learned why they had a secret club in the first place - he had yet to meet a single teacher that encouraged creative expression and freedom of any kind. There were no musical, performance, or creative classes available, and about seven hours of homework every night. Plus, all the students were the disappointments of rich parents who sent their kid away in a last-ditch effort to get them a good career. Although, Ranboo couldn't speak on that since he was in the same boat.

"Anyone else want to go?" Dream looked around and Ranboo followed his eyes. He saw when they landed on Tommy and noticed how fidgety he was. "Tommy, you haven't gone yet. Do you want to?" Tommy sent Dream an appreciative smile and got up, shaking his hands a few times before staring over everyone's heads to the back of the room. Ranboo noticed that he didn't have a paper or a book; he must have memorized his poem.

He found himself excited to see Tommy read, getting the idea that the boy loved to perform. 

The blond took a deep breath and shook his hands.

"Though Life will rob me of my childhood days,
And hedge a way for free, unbidden feet,
It cannot steal my childhood thoughts and lays,
Nor break the spell that lets me hear the beat
Of Nature's heart, and catch her whisper sweet.

That was 'Solace', by Ruby Archer," The boy murmured, heading back to his seat. Everyone clapped, and Ranboo couldn't help but stare at him. Tommy was a bit mysterious, always talking yet never revealing much about himself, but the emotion in his voice shook Ranboo to his core, touching a part of him that was neglected and left to fester. Tommy's voice made it feel refreshed and renewed, reminding Ranboo that it was there, and pushing him to nurture it. 

He wondered what went on inside that boy's head.

On the walk back to school, he spoke with Dream. "Tommy's reading was amazing," He started, which brought out a bit of a prideful smile from the older. "Where did he learn to perform like that?" Dream's smile dimmed somewhat and he avoided eye contact, staring at the dark woods with an unreadable emotion before sighing. "Tommy has a history that he doesn't like to share. I'd ask him if you want to know, since sharing that isn't really my place." 

Ranboo nodded in understanding and decided that he would ask Tommy as soon as he got a chance.

-

"You really want to know?" Tommy said with an undertone of hesitancy. Ranboo nodded. "Okay, but you can't tell anyone. You have to promise," He insisted, and Ranboo again nodded earnestly. "I promise," He stressed, and Tommy continued. "I love acting. It's my favorite thing in the entire world. Y'know the high school down the road? Well, they've put on A Midsummer Night's Dream this year, and I got the part of Puck, which is, like, insanely cool. But my dad, Phil, would never want me to act. My older brothers got first dibs on careers since he just likes them more, so I'm stuck with the responsibility of carrying on the family business. It's fucked and unfair, and I feel really trapped, so the two things that help me are the Dead Poets Society and this play, but if Phil finds out, he'll pull me out and send me to a military academy or some shit. Anything to keep me from thinking that I have a choice in how my life goes." 

Tommy laughed bitterly, and Ranboo didn't hesitate to engulf the boy in a hug, his heart aching from the story that was so similar to his. "It's going to be okay," He murmured. "I think it's incredible that you're doing this, and if you'll let me, I'd love to see the play."

"Mhm," Tommy said from over his shoulder, voice thick with emotion. "I'd really love that."

-

"Man. I knew Tommy could act, but... wow! That was awesome!" Sapnap nearly shouted from his seat. They had just sat down after clapping for a solid ten minutes, amazed by Tommy's performance. The cast came out for a final farewell and bow, and Ranboo's heart swelled with joy as the audience clapped the loudest for Tommy. Ranboo didn't think he would ever forget how big the smile on the blond boy's face was in front of that audience, under those bright lights. He also didn't think he'd ever forget how quickly that smile died when his eyes fell on something in the back of the room. The color drained from Ranboos's face when he saw what Tommy was looking at: it was Phil, his dad.

-

"He's sending me to military academy!" Tommy sobbed as Tubbo held him. The group stood solemnly in the doorway, at a loss for words. What could anyone say? That it would be okay? That they wouldn't let it happen? That he could make the most of it? None of it was true, and it'd be cruel to pretend it was by saying it. So the group stood in their silence as Tommy wailed, mourning the loss of his bright soul. After all, they likely would never see him again once he was sent away, and he wouldn't be finding his way back on the stage anytime soon.

That night, in the privacy of Tommy's bedroom at his family home, he took Puck's crown of sticks and laid it neatly in front of his open window, letting the frozen winter air send shivers up his skin as he stood for a few minutes, saying goodbye. Goodbye to his acting and his role as Puck. To the feeling of being alone, under the darkness of night, with nothing and no one to save you or help you. To the feeling of cold, winter air on his exposed skin, lightly ruffling his hair. He kept that feeling with him, grasping at the ghost of that chilled breeze on his skin and in his hair as he headed to his father's study. He picked the lock, opening the door to a black and silent room of dark carpet and mahogany furniture. He grimaced at the sight of the military academy brochure still sitting on the desk, feeling nothing as he looked at the sea of uniformed students standing at attention in the little square on the front. It only strengthened his resolve. He moved on from the brochure to the drawer he was looking for, picking the lock to that as well and curling his fingers around the object of his desire. His father's gun.

The only people who heard Phil's screams that night as he held his son's dead body in his arms were his two older brothers, who stood in the doorway, not believing what they were seeing. Their wonderful, baby brother was lying motionless and unbreathing with a bullet hole in his head and a puddle of blood seeping through the carpet and into the wooden skeleton of the house, to forever stain it.

-

"Thank you, Gregory, that was a touching speech. Everyone, that was Gregory Pembrook, student body President. Now we will hear from Dream, one of Thomas's close friends."

The crowd was silent as the tall blond made his way to the podium, looking so small under the gaze of all the students, parents, and teachers here to mourn Tommy. Some of them he glared at, others he shared a look of solemn understanding.

"Tommy was an inspiration to us all. He was an incredible actor and performed in A Midsummer Night's Dream just last month. He was also a prolific writer and a lover of poetry, although the only ones who would know that are the Dead Poets Society. A group of students at the school, of which I am the leader, gathered frequently after curfew in the woods to share poetry. It was how we escaped the reality of this oppressive school that silenced our creativity. I know our little group is going to get shut down now that I've shared it, but it was important to Tommy's story. Now, I'd like to share one of his favorite poems."

Dream shared 'Solace' by Ruby Archer, which was the catalyst in each and every student's mind, although they wouldn't know it for a few more minutes. 

When he concluded the poem, he was met with a charged silence. His speech continued. "I was the leader of these meetings, but it was Tommy who came to me one day with the idea." Dream paused, taking a deep breath and sadly smiling at the memory of Tommy's excited face as he explained the idea while they had walked to class. "It was him who inspired us to express ourselves when our families shut us away in this school, which trains us to not think for ourselves or have a creative passion of any kind. It was because of this that Tommy killed himself." Murmurs rippled through the crowd since no one had actually said those words: Tommy killed himself. They had skirted around the topic, and to hear someone address it head-on was jarring. Dream continued, not waiting for them to recover or stop him. "Tommy died because his voice was silenced, but I refuse to be silenced. The Dead Poets Society refuses to let Tommy die in vain. We stand with Tommy."

From various areas of the crowd, members of the Dead Poets Society stood up. One by one, heads popped out of the crowd of students: Tubbo, who had tears streaming silently down his face; Sapnap who stood stoic; George; Purpled; and finally Ranboo, who couldn't bring himself to look up. 

From his pointed gaze on the floor, he heard shuffling that slowly grew louder, which was what brought him to finally lift his head. Other students, students who had no idea what the Dead Poets Society was, students who didn't even know Tommy, were standing up with him. "We stand with Tommy!" Gregory shouted from the front. "We stand with Tommy!" Sapnap yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. Slowly, a chant rose from the students. They began ripping off their ties and throwing them, shoving off the teachers and parents who tried to pull them out of the ruckus. The shouts continued, the rebellion was lit, and that was the beginning of the end of that boarding school.

Five years later, the establishment was shut down. Lawsuits had been written, students had been pulled out, and the school couldn't support itself. The Dead Poets Society was scattered across the country at various colleges, most studying some form of art or creative expression, but they all returned the summer after the school was emptied to do one thing: hold a meeting. 

They had gotten permission from the city to have a grave outside the shack for Tommy, and their families had contributed heavily to have it stand large and proud. The headstone bore Tommy's name, birthday, and death date, as well as 'Solace' by Ruby Archer. Everyone found themselves startled by the poem's chilling accuracy to Tommy's life and the end of it. 

That day, they gathered around the stone and each read a poem that reminded them of Tommy. All the poems were ones that sent a happy creature running through your soul, and they remembered the best moments of Tommy. His role as Puck, his poems, his jokes, his hilarious class clown antics, his insightful advice whenever someone needed it, his willingness to lend a hand or a hug. They left an empty space in the circle between Tubbo and Ranboo and hoped that somehow Tommy was there to fill it. They all liked to imagine he was.

(A/N, skip if you're not interested)

Hope you enjoyed! Ranboo is kind of Todd Anderson and Tommy is Neil Perry for anyone who needed clarity on the characters. Again, I would recommend the movie to everyone except those who are triggered by suicide, since I found it triggering on that topic.