unscripted | dead poets society ✓

04 | fleeting moments

     COMPARED TO THE UNIVERSE, humans are just micro specks of dust, left to wander around in this vast nothingness. It is said that the sun makes up 99.86% of the mass of the solar system. That you could squeeze 1.3 million little Earths inside it. Its funny how scientists exist to remind us how small we are, and how the entire human race could fit into a sugar cube if you would take out all the space in our atoms.

     Those facts alone were enough to make Presley feel inconsequential and irrelevant to existing. And as she sat there on the floor of the Hellton library, with her nose buried in a book like all those times before, the realization dawns upon her that this year won't be the same old normal years she had been used to.

     As close as normal could ever get, anyway.

     Just when she was about to read regarding Mr. Keating's description in his annual , the sound of footsteps freezing in place and a voice that follows after, stops her from doing so. "Oh — uhm — I didn't know you'd be here." Neil stutters out as he round the corner of the Annual section.

     Presley wasn't sure why she was here either, she just was. "Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows upon catching sight of the boy. It was as if he was everywhere. Presley wondered why fate decided to be a sadistic bitch and had to make her bump into this boy even if she never asked for any of it.

     "I could say the same to you." A smile carves its way onto Neil's face as he approaches the shelves, looking for Mr. Keating's annual. He was quite exhilarated to have bumped in Presley once again, and for the third time.

     "I'm skipping." At this, Neil whips his head to her direction so quickly he thinks his neck might break. He had an unreadable expression on his face, a mix of shock, disbelief, and confusion.

     "Why?" He demands, his voice raising a little. Presley only shrugs as a response, a blank expression on her face. Now that he faced her, Neil noticed she looked awfully pale. He wondered if it was because she had skipped meals, and was dehydrated.

     "Now hurry up before your stomach hurts from the releasing of acid." Presley casually says, returning her gaze to the annual in front of her. Presley thought Neil was annoying, and over protective, and too giddy about a lot of things. And that irked her way more than it should have.

     "And what about you? Wouldn't the same thing happen to you?" To this, an exasperated sigh escapes Presley's lips as she looks back up at Neil with a tired expression.

     "Why do you care?" She asks.

     "And why do you care?" Neil retorts, as a look of concern replaces the look of disbelief on his face. "You can't skip your meals." He deadpans, his voice dropping an octave lower.

     Unamused, Presley rolls her eyes, standing up to give Neil the book in her hands. "I'm guessing this is what you were looking for." Was what she said before walking off to her room, not wanting to talk any longer.

     Staring at the annual in his hands, Neil was about to look up to say something when he saw Presley had already gone. Sighing to himself, he flips the pages of the annual, until he finds the page Mr. Keating was on. Scanning the description with a picture of a boy he'd never imagine was Mr. Keating, a satisfied smile makes its way to his face as he made his way to the lunch hall.

     Although Neil couldn't shake the worry out of him, he forces a smile on his face, not wanting to alarm the others as he strode in the lunch hall. Upon catching a glimpse of his friends, he chips in between Knox and Charlie. "Hey, I found his senior annual in the library." Handing the book to Cameron, who recieved it, scanning the annual with his eyes and consequently burst out laughing upon catching sight of that page.