Peter Pan Imagines OUAT

He's Just Broken

They told me that Peter Pan was a bloody demon. That he was evil, vile, loathsome, and cruel, and basically all of the words you could think of that meant evil. 

I believed them for so long. I mean, how could I not? He stole Henry, who was practically a little brother to me. He lied to him, convinced him that by killing himself, he could save everybody. But Pan was just selfish. Henry wouldn't be saving anyone but Peter Pan himself.

When it came time, I sacrificed myself for Henry. I gave myself to him in return for him and in the end, it worked. Emma and them got Henry back, only problem, I was stuck here on Neverland. I had nowhere to go.

As I stayed, I became less of a game to Pan and more like a friend. He started being nicer to me, talking to me like I was an actual human being rather than a toy. 

I don't know if it was my personality or what, but he found me approachable, easy to talk to. I always listened to him about anything. Usually, it was ranting about how stupid some of the lost boys were or how much the pirates have been making him angry. One time, he almost opened up to me about how stressed he had been, but he realized what he was saying, said goodnight, and went to bed. He liked talking to me.

I feel like he thought I was one of the only people he could open up to. The only person who would care. The only person who would understand and listen when he needed it. Peter never really had anybody like that. He always only had himself.

I think that I was a stress reliever for him. He wasn't much of a cuddler, but a few months after I had been there, he had warmed up to me a lot and saw me as a friend. He was ranting about how annoyed he was with everything that was going on. I listened as I usually did and even gave him a little bit of advice. He said thanks and I told him that he could always come and talk to me. That I liked listening to him. He smiled and hugged me. Actually hugged me. Not like a side hug or a wimpy hug and go. He hugged me with both arms, tightly, with his head resting on my shoulder. I held him around his torso tightly. He took a deep breath and completely relaxed in my arms.

He was surprisingly a really good hugger. I really wouldn't mind more of this I thought to myself. I also relaxed in his arms, resting my head on his. He then sucked in another sharp breath and pulled away, as if he realized he was showing weakness. He gave me a goodnight and headed off to his own tent for the night.

It gave me something to think about that night. He doesn't like being seen as anything other than strong. He had such a high pride and ego for himself that he couldn't let anyone see him show weakness. The fact that he had shown me any, means that I cracked the surface somehow.

A few nights later, I decided to go check on Peter. He hadn't come into my room or talked to me the way he had that night since it happened. I could tell he felt... embarrassed in a way. Like he was worried I might bring it up. I wanted to see him again, I wanted him to talk to me, but when I walked into his room that night, I saw something I never thought I'd see.

Peter was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with tears running down his face. As soon as I walked in, he tried to cover up and pretend I didn't see anything, and of course, he was angry. He started getting upset at me wondering why I was just walking in without knocking and saying "what do you need?" and "you need to go!" but I was stubborn and stayed.

After a LONG time of arguing, he gave in and stared at me for a whole half a minute before taking a huge sigh and sitting on his bed. I could tell he was still anxious about whatever he was upset about before. I awkwardly stood there for a minute before taking a singular step towards his bed. He looked up at me, no emotion clearly shown on his face. At that moment, I couldn't tell how he was feeling at all.

Deciding that I don't care what he is thinking about me, I walk the rest of the way to his bed and sit next to him. Long story short, we were both super awkward and afraid to say anything. I finally cut the tension and laid my head on his shoulder. After that, the awkwardness disappeared completely. He sighed again and laid his head on mine.

I could feel him start to breathe heavier until his breaths started getting shaky. I looked up at him to find he was trying not to cry again. He looked away, not wanting me to see, but I lightly placed my hand on his face, returning his gaze in my direction.

His eyes were welled with tears that he wasn't willing to let fall. I didn't say anything as I pulled him into a hug. He reluctantly hugged me back, but when he did, he held on tighter than I thought possible. He finally released his sobs, unable to hold them in any longer. I had one of my arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him comfortingly while my other hand rested on his head. He buried his face in my neck.

I let him cry it out, holding him in silence all the while. At that moment, neither of us needed to speak. Everything we needed expressed was released without a single word. I needed nothing more than what he gave me and I know he felt the same.

As he cried, I realized that Peter Pan wasn't evil just because he could be. He was evil because he wanted to mask how truly easy it was for things to get to him. He built up this false pride because he had none. He wanted to build up a reputation for himself so he had something to keep in line with, something to follow, something to fake. Peter Pan lived by the 'fake it 'till you make it,' but for him, it expressed itself in villainy.

Peter Pan wasn't a villain with no purpose. 

Peter Pan was broken.

Now, it's my mission to fix him. 

To save him.

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