Return To Me [On Hiatus]

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U P D A T E April 2, 2012: There were a few grammical errors and repeated and missing words, along with several places where the sentence didn't make sense and a couple of spelling errors. All fixed, though. :)

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December 4, 1910

Pᴇᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴅʀᴇssᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴄʟᴇᴀɴᴇsᴛ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs, trying his hardest to stop smiling. The little room he had in the back of his mentor's shop was just large enough for the growing man to rough it through the winter. Already there was a thick blanket of snow covering the cobblestone streets and a chill ran through Peter as he cleared his throat nervously.

     "Peter," Michael Loft called from the main room, and Peter walked out, looking down at his black trousers with slight distaste. The black polished shoes were a little tight, and the overcoat was uncomfortable. Peter looked up at his mentor and gave him a pained, small sort of smile.

     Michael snickered at him, the way a father may to a son. Mr. Loft had served as Peter's father those six years, and Peter had explained what would be occurring that night. It had taken a lot of trust for Peter to even explain why his last name was Pan, let alone his adventures with the Lost Boys and Tinker Bell in Neverland. Maybe that was a key component in growing up.

     "Don't laugh!" Peter wailed, running a hand through his curly blond/brown hair in distress. His stomach was fluttering with butterflies and his hands shook some. His entire being was shrieking with tension. Tonight had to be perfect!

     Michael's face softened and he walked up to Peter, patting him on the shoulder. Over the past two years, Peter had grown taller than his adopted father, who was 6'1". Now, he stood at a solid 6'3", shaped like a man with the build and the facial hair. "Don't worry, Peter," Michael insisted, "the Wendy girl will love you whether you look awkward or not."

     And did Peter look awkward! Not because of the clothes that he wore, for he looked handsome as could be. It was how he wore them that made Peter look awkward. The obvious discomfort was almost amusing.

     "But what if her feelings have changed?" Peter worried, pacing back and forth in front of Michael with his hands pasted to the back of his head. It wasn't a surprise for him to act this way, for Peter, as he grew, would constantly worry about the obvious when he was nervous.

     "Calm down," Michael soothed, rolling his eyes in amusement as his wife, Martha, entered and frowned at Peter. A pair of scissors was in her left hand with a brush in her right, and Peter's face fell.

     Taking a step back, Peter shook his head. "Martha," he started slowly but she wasn't listening to him, and I can't say I blame her. Peter needed a haircut badly; his curls making his head seem just a little too big.

     "Come now, Peter!" Martha objected, taking his wrist. "Just a little shorter, and then you can go sweep Miss Darling off her feet."

     He set on a defiant face but ended up giving in. Peter was smart to do so, for a woman with scissors is a very dangerous creature to deal with. He sat nicely on a table while she snipped away at his thick locks, pieces of his prize falling to the floor until his head felt much lighter. That's when Peter started to worry, for he didn't know whether Martha had cut off all of his hair or not.

     "Martha, stop," Peter objected.

     She continued to snip. "I'm almost done," she snapped back softy then took a step from her adopted son and looked to her husband with a somewhat worried expression. "Does it look all right, my love?"