Terry sat in bed with Peter, both huddled under a blanket. The lightning outside was keeping them awake and the loud claps of thunder sent tremors through their hearts.
"It's alright, Peter," said Terry. "It's only light and noise, we'll be fine."
Peter nodded vigorously, but didn't speak. His blue eyes were glassy with tears that dared not run down his cheeks.
Since both of them could remember, Terry and Peter had lived in the orphanage. They never felt safe anymore, the familiar feeling of being loved was now distant and it was nearly impossible to recall the last time they had been hugged by someone who wanted them. Day after day, they waited for someone to come through who would want to take them home; night after night they prayed that the next day would bring them a new hope that never came.
Living in an orphanage was anything but tame. The other boys there were either standoffish and timid, or mean and domineering. When the boys weren't awkwardly standing in a quiet room with a silent boy, they were being bullied by the butch kids who obviously had nothing better to do with their time.
Another lightning bolt flashed and Peter hid his face in the blanket. Terry hugged his friend tightly and swallowed. "Peter, we'll be alright. I promise. We'll get adopted, and our parents will let us stay in their beds until the storm is gone. It'll happen."
Peter looked up. "How do you know that?" he asked. "We still haven't been adopted, and we're both about to turn twelve. Mums and dads don't want little boys who aren't... well, little boys." he said.
Terry wrinkled his nose. "Don't say that. Someone will have us one day. We'll be adopted one day soon enough."
"But, we're growing up, Terry. Soon, we'll be too old for a mum and dad." Peter said.
His friend narrowed his eyes and held down a heavy sigh. "We can't help growing up, Pete." he said. "We all do it some day, I suppose."
Peter was quiet for a long time until a low rumble in the clouds broke the quiet. "I don't want to grow up, Terry."
Outside the window, there was a slight golden glow. The tiniest face peered in through the dripping window, blond locks handing loose and wet about her shoulders. Two gauzy silver wings beat the air behind her, flicking away tiny droplets of rain. She smiled. "You don't have to." she whispered. Her voice was hardly audible above the rain, only a slight, brilliant ringing echoing against the glass before her.
The little fairy flitted over to the sill of the window and watched the boys inside. She only had to find a way to get inside and convince them to follow her. They could live with her in the place where youth lived forever.
They could live in Neverland.