Peter Pan & Wendy [Love Story]

A Lost...what?

          I watched after Peter as he disappeared into the darkness that led back up to the surface and then looked at his jacket on the ground. I picked it up and put it over his chair. I ran a finger over the sword mark he had made when he had tried to kill the Lost Boys and I had offered to give them medicine instead. That had been many years ago. Looking up I watched as Peter was holding a kicking dark haired boy with freckles on his nose, and a little chubby in the face.

            He was screaming, yelling for the ghost to let him go, but then quieted down when Tinkerbelle flew over to him and whispered in his ear. His kicking ceased his eyes big and full of curiosity. He tilted his head up at the man holding him, hardly able to believe his eyes. “Peter…” his lips parted to some extent. Peter nodded his head, a little sadness in the gesture. He slowly let him down, Tootles feet touching the ground sole touching down first until he was standing straight, his eyes moving over to me. “Wendy?” his mouth dropped, his eyes looking at my chest.

            Peter followed his gaze and then looked at Tootles and flicked him in his head. “Mind your manners.” He said sternly, and it shocked me to watch him punish one of the Lost Boys. That wasn’t the boy in him. He had grown up, even if it was just a little bit, even if it was only in certain areas. Tootles rubbed his head and twisted it around at him. He was still so young, still looked the same as he always had.

            He backed away from Peter, his back at faced to me until he turned and faced me. “How?” He asked looking between us and then to Tinkerbelle and then back to Peter. “You left to grow up? You said you were just going to find Wendy! You said you would come back shortly! You were gone for so long! Have you been outside Peter? This is your fault! You were gone…” his eyes started to water, and Peter watched helplessly. He knew, I could see in his eyes that this was his fault.

            He was frozen, his mouth shut into a firm line. I walked forward and Tootle’s turned around to look at me, a look of utter sadness on his face. I knelt down in front of him, watching as his eyes looked into mine. “There is real no way to explain it Tootle’s. We just did, but we are here now. We will make things right.” I tried to explain to him, but I could tell he would never understand. Though he may take it, settle for my answer, he would never understand. He was too young. Peter had been the oldest of them all, so he could only understand a little about why people did the things they did for other people they cared about, but there was nothing Tootle’s could do except to grow up a little.

            He nodded and looked around the room. “Good luck explaining this to the rest of them.” A small smile pulled at the side of him mouth, his eyes full of more light than they had before. I looked up at Peter from the ground, noticing that he was not really looking at anything, but staring at the wall. I figured he must be thinking of what he was going to do, of what he could do. Perhaps he was thinking about the Lost Boys, and if they would ever forgive him. I couldn’t read him, and I couldn’t tell exactly. He finally met my gaze, his long eyelashes covering them as they drew lower to the floor.

            I backed away from them both, standing straight again, and looked between them, hearing the constant hum as Tinkerbelle flew between them waiting for something. I could tell they felt awkward; boys. “Alright then, lets go find the others.” I forced my beaming face to speak, putting my hands on my hips like I meant business.

            “They will be here. We were out gathering berries and hunting for whatever food was left.” He strolled over and picked up his carving from the ground, brushing off the invisible dirt. “They probably won’t act like I did. I’m sure they will be happy you are back.” He smiled, but it did not reach his heart, for it was empty like the forest and his hope. Shortly after, we had found ourselves wondering around the room. I was on Peter’s bed, my head buried in the pillows and tired from the long journey. It still had his smell, the smell of oak leaves and a hint of soap. It was a very manly smell, a smell that could put me to sleep because I would feel as if he were sleeping right beside me.

            Peter was sitting in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned at least three down, and his shoes discarded. He looked as if he was falling asleep as Tootles was sitting with his legs handing off of his bed swinging back and forth. Tink was in the house above me, and I had to check a few times to see if she would cut it down, sending it flying onto my head. I heard commotion from above, feet slamming into the ground, the door opening rom the top of the stairs and a mound of people coming down. Peters eyes slid open easily, no emotion on his face.

            The group burst through the open entry and froze in a huddle as the noticed Peter and I in the room. Some were looking at him, and some at me. The half that was looking at me stared down, the same as Tootles, and I felt a little embarrassed at my found chest. Then all of their eyes switched to the opposite person. The twins stood to the right, small and with brown short hair. Nibs and Curly were in the middle, Nibs having short black hair, a little older than Curly who had bright red curly hair. Then there was Slightly, probably the next youngest under peter who had longer hair that stuck out in every direction and was a mix between black and brown probably from the dirt. They were wearing the same clothes as they always had—animal skins, leather, and leaves—though they seemed cleaner than they usually were. Surly the Lost Boys hadn’t learned how to do chores?

            I thought about that a moment and realized the cabin itself was cleaner, though the beds were not made and there had been cloth on much of the furniture, there had been no dishes and the floor was swept. My eyebrows pulled together instinctively as I watched them rush over to Peter, forgetting about me, and pulling him into a hug as their murmurs of disbelief filled the room. They were all talking at once.

            “We thought you were dead!”

            “How are you older?”

            “Where have you been?  What have you done?”

            “Are you and mother together again?”

            “Oh we have so much to tell you!”

            I listened to them speak and shook my head, the noise was giving me a headache not like it had when I was younger, and I could only imagine what Peter must’ve felt like. I sat up in the bed and saw Peter’s growing expression. He was staring to smile; he was starting to talk and answer questions, and then playing. One boy would flick his head and he would grab them and tickle them or hit them back. It was a relief seeing him as a kid again, and I only wish I had been the age to play or even the mindset as he did. I thought how odd it was that he could have been any age, but in person he was only a year younger than I was.

            His eyes strolled over to mine again, his smile easing away when he saw me staring at him, but returning with the blood filled my cheeks. He was still the sweetest thing I had ever met, still so young in the fact that there were things that he didn’t understand, but old enough now to where he knew, or at least I hoped he knew, what love was or could be. They were playing around with each other, their baskets of food in beside the entrance and Tink sitting on her perch watching with a happy face. She was so happy she was practically glowing.

            They talked for what felt like hours, talking about his journey, about things that he saw, and even about how much he really had hated growing up. He was glad that he was back, and I couldn’t lie, I was glad too; to be back in a place I had longed to be for four years. Even if we had a lot to do, it was nice to be able to enjoy ourselves. They talked about Neverland, about how chaos had filled the land, and then they talked about two new Lost Boys, one not exactly what you would expect.

            As if on cue the door opened, and I heard a petite sound of steps walking down gracefully. Through the door I could see a taller figure, long red hair that waved like a waterfall and settling around the waist, a loose fitting white gown clinging to a curved body that belonged to a girl. She was three years younger than I, at least, and was absolutely beautiful. She didn’t look at me, no, her eyes flew straight to Peter’s as the boys made a path, and as they did, I saw as Peter’s eyes grew wide. 

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Authors Note

I figured a twist was a good idea! So what do you think? How will this cause problems for Peter and Wendy? Who is this Lost Girl and how did she get to Neverland? 

5 votes and 2 comments for the next chapter!