& ʟᴏsᴛ/ʙᴏʏ

George dragged a hand across the back of his neck. There was stubble along his jaw she didn't remember. Little things like that were somehow worse than the big ones. Proof of time. Proof that his life had kept moving while hers had stalled around a note and the empty space he'd left behind.

“It wasn’t just wishful thinking” a tired sigh left his lips, the weight of everything just settling when he could finally breathe “wanted to open a new portal and all that crap-couldn’t let them, obviously” why he and his siblings still felt such a responsibility for that cursed isle he wouldn’t understand. But someone had to, apparently

“So,” she said, tipping her head slightly, “do you always wander into back alleys alone, or am I getting special treatment?”

Green eyes followed along the lines of her finished painting in an attempt to find similarities with the other mysterious graffiti that “randomly” popped around Storybrook “culture indeed” he puffed out the smoke from his cigarette “what does it mean?”

“If it’s me,” he said, his voice low, “then tell me it’s me.”

“Stop” he managed to spit out with the last dregs of his control “you know that’s not it” because it would always be about the two of them, their inability to be apart and every little thing that came from that- for better and for worse

@neverlandborn

The relief that flowed across this body when he found his brother didn’t last much. Even if he had been prepared, the sight of him beaten bloody wasn’t one he would ever really get used to “can you stand?” George wasn’t even going go to ask for details. They were past that point and all of his energy was focused on carrying his brother to a safe spot, cataloguing his injuries and start treating them. All before his mother found out.

@neverlandborn

"You're not as quiet as you think" one of george's hands lazily rubbed his eyes in an attempt to shake off the sleepiness out of it, his whole body relaxed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. Inside his home was one of the few places he could have that luxury, despite the fact his worries had dragged him out of bed “late night tea?”

Eve stared at him. Her ribs still felt tight. “And no vague, non answers. I swear to the Gods, George, if you make me drag the truth out of you one tooth at a time, I’ll make you eat them.”

“It was nothing a few months back, just whispers about it. Not worth worrying” that’s what he had been telling himself alongside his siblings “Until now”

She dragged another line through the crown, cleaner this time, then capped it with a quick flick of silver. She could still feel him there behind her. He wasn’t crowding or judging. That alone made him less annoying than most people in this town.

Now he had the bonus of some art, apparently “you keep painting those around here. Like your tag, right?” no wonder it seemed familiar to him. It kept popping up around Storybrook

He could see the tension in George’s shoulders, the way he held himself rigid as if bracing against something. Harry shifted closer before he could stop himself.

“You think i don’t want to” he stated with a sign tinting his words “it’s because we can’t”

There was a flicker of challenge in his tone, a chance for George to explain, something Felix rarely afforded to anyone else. It was perhaps the fact that George was Pan's son, but then again, Felix wasn’t keen on delving too deeply into those thoughts. What mattered was the current problem at hand, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

“Nothing happened” was his answer. It would have been his responsibility if it had. So in his mind there was nothing to blame him for. And there was no way he was going to incriminate himself here

"Depends on who you're saying no to," he replied, a mix of surprise and bewilderment on his face. "I know for a fact that Toodles cheated his ass off." He recognized that it wasn't like George to turn a blind eye. So why was he doing just that? "There's no way you're letting him get away with it. Want me to kick his ass?" He would definitely do it if George told him to.

“I believe that punishment should fit the crime” and if they were a repeated offender like Toodles? Then a lesson was in order “isn’t that right, sly”

She decided to drop the subject for now as a clap of thunder rumbled overhead and rain began to fall. "We'd better get inside," she said. Before she could move an inch, a bolt of lightning struck the treehouse, causing one of the branches to break and fall toward them.

Pulling back with a curse, george's arms wrapped around his mother's shoulders to pull her back from the impact "you okay?" dumb question, yes, but his own breathing was coming in short pants at the surprise

@neverlandborn

“Any…improvement to this place should be welcomed” even after the curse the feeling of something alien hung around the air. As if the other shoe had yet to drop while they were all trying to go on with whatever lives they were supposed to have now.

“You said you’d come back,” she repeated, and she hated how her voice did that — dropped low and quiet the way it did when she was past the point of screaming. “You said you’d come back, George. That’s all you said. No explanation. No timeline. No reason.” She took a step toward him, and she watched his expression shift, that careful neutral thing he did with his face when he was bracing for her. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up and reach for someone and find nothing? Just a note?”

He stared into her eyes without daring to touch quite yet, in case it would turn into something else. She knew him well enough to read his eyes better than most people ever could "And it won't happen again- it's fixed"

“Ye were going to,” Harry said quietly. “Before ye stopped yerself. Ye were going to touch me again.”

What else should he say? How badly he really wanted to feel Harry’s skin under his fingertips? How he craved, for once, the touch of someone else? It didn’t matter that those thoughts took over his mind over and over again, it wasn’t how it was to go.

"I hope so, George," Wendy replied softly. "So, where is he?" Her concern lingered as she pressed for his whereabouts. "I do hope he's steering clear of your father. The sky is looking like rain. He must be in a foul mood." She silently prayed to the gods that whatever was brewing had nothing to do with her younger son.

“He’s probably taking a walk” George tried again with his usual nonchalance tone. Mal was hidden away safe and sound for now. But if there was one constant in this isle was that it could change as easily as its king’s moods did “you know how he is”