musiconthegrind

[what-the-fic]

September - 1960 - NYU

A/N: I don't love TWs - but would add them if anyone reading decided they would be necessary. It is a sequel so you know grief is to be expected. The themes here are heavy, but I write Todd's emotions from a place of personal experience. (Actually, I write all of Todd from personal experience, because now I'm just stalling and adding words to the author's notes because I am kind of terrified to hit 'post' as this is actually worse than public speaking. That being said, I dedicate every single word of this story and the chapters to follow to sweet Caroline (bah, bah, bah).

"Excuse me! Pardon me! Excuse - MOVE!" Cecily tore through the crowd gathered by the fountain on her way to class, wondering what she might say to the next long-haired slob playing an out-of-tune guitar for spare change in the park. She wasn't in a hurry because she was excited to get to this particular class. The truth was that she'd been so unenthusiastic about this specific lesson that she had loitered in the diner complaining about it to her roommate over blueberry muffins all morning. Unfortunately, all the complaining in the world couldn't change her luck, and the precocious journalism student was running late.

It was a first for her. She had always taken her classes seriously. She took journalism seriously. Cecily took life seriously. The requirement for all journalism majors to take a poetry class in order to obtain an English degree was something she refused to take seriously. There was nothing poetic about journalism. Nothing romantic about the war that raged in Vietnam. Nothing could be called dreamy about the looming high-stakes election. Although, if pressed, she could readily admit Senator Kennedy was handsome. Not that it was vital for him to be. Overall, she found nothing sentimental about the news, just as there was absolutely nothing idealistic about Cecily Thomas.

If she believed in fate, and she didn't, she may have attributed it to the reason for her tardiness. By her count, the class had been underway for half an hour. Still cursing and shoving her way down the hall, she pondered excuses for her absence. As she burst through the door of one of NYU's smallest lecture halls, she was surprised to find the room was nearly empty. Not too surprised - it was a poetry class, after all. She expected the people who didn't want to take it would have the fortitude not to show and that the students who would purposely take the class were asleep during the noon timeslot. Her breath caught up to her and elicited a gasp, startling the only two others in the room out of a long embrace. She bolted back out of the door and wondered if she had missed the lecture altogether.

Before she could remove her bag from her shoulder to check her neatly written schedule for the explanation of the empty lecture hall, the older of the two men greeted her in the open doorway. "Come, now. You're early but welcome. There's no room for shyness in my classroom," he invited in a gentle singsong voice. His warm tone made her wonder how she would manage to stay awake while he droned on about stanzas, iambs, and verse. The younger man nodded and awkwardly shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket as though he'd learned the professor's lesson the hard way.

"You've taken the class before?" She raised an eyebrow and addressed the young man as she took in every detail from his brand new loafers to his unwashed hair. She hadn't made an official judgment on what his unique personal aesthetic was trying to convey. She was too instantly intrigued by him to give another thought to her scheduling blunders.

With another nod, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "One like it. A lifetime ago," he said without a trace of irony.

"Don't let Mr. Anderson fool you with his humility. He's among the finest students I've had the privilege to teach," the professor spoke again, this time bursting with pride in his star pupil.

"Among…" the student repeated with a raspy whisper. He looked as though he might implode; like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and he was likely to cry on the spot. It was a look Cecily knew too well. She immediately looked at her books for fear that looking into his eyes for too long might remind her of her sister's eyes and leave her looking as miserable as her classmate. So Cecily did as she always had and saved the memory of her sister for another time. Or never, if she had things her way.

The two men embraced once again. "I'm so happy you're here, Todd," the professor's voice was softer than it had been when he welcomed Cecily into the room. She instinctively stepped back to give them space. She shuddered at the memory of everyone, people she didn't even know or like, trying to hug her at the funeral. The memory would have taken her breath away on any other day. Cecily wondered if she was healing or mastering the art of suppressing her anguish.

Pulling away from the professor, the boy she now knew as Todd turned to her with a newly composed expression. "You're going to have a great time in this class. It changed my life for the better, for the extraordinary. Do you have a favorite poet?" His teal eyes sparkled with anticipation of meeting another poetry major.

Scrunching her forehead in thought, she smiled for the first time that day. "Anderson?" she grimaced. "Well, according to him, you have talent, and he is the expert. That and - you are the only one I've ever met. So, I suppose you win by default," she shrugged and glanced at the door as the students filed into their seats for the one o'clock class time. Not noon, as she had believed when she stormed in on Professor Keating's office hours in error.

"It seems your newest fan is going to require a lot of help in my class. Why don't you show her to your seat before we get started?" Though slightly insulting as he knew she would struggle, the professor's words brought a nervous smile to Cecily's face.

When Todd smiled back, she realized her expression was no longer forced. She followed him to his seat in the front row and took the chair to his right. With that, the new study partners started the class and the friendship bound to make her life extraordinary.