#ambiguousinnocence

(s ---> a bad name to immortality) are you familiar with the works of kim kardashian, pan?

(s ---> a bad name to immortality) she has a quote i’m particularly fond of

while he has his own little pocket of decadence in the city, there’s something of a habit forming.  after all, the best way to find out what whispers were winding their way through the streets was to set foot upon them.   one place, no matter the breadth of clientele it housed, couldn’t contain all of the secrets of fabletown.  and the only way to truly - hear - them... was to make sure you were - listening.

so those polished boots pick up grime from the asphalt.  catch the leaking oil that gathers slick and rainbow reflective on the surface of filthy pools, glimmering in the shimmer of streetlights, flicking on in the nigh dusk.  wonderland would be waking soon, but it’s not quite late enough to emerge from it’s daytime slumber to tempt those who preferred to move in the shade into it’s tantalising depths.  which is why, he has time - makes the time - to wander.  to watch.  to... listen.  

and on the periphery, a neon sign, a place where those tongues wag so freely, catching up on the most salacious chatter of the day, the juicy gossip, a churning wheel of rumour mill... the diner wasn’t exactly the deepest set den of debauchery in town, but it was quite often buzzing, thrumming with those little tidbits, snippets, loose threads just ripe for someone to snag between their fingertips and -- unravel.

he’s not exactly expecting to run into anyone familiar.  he’s not exactly expecting not to.  expectations were things that tended to happen to other people.  however -- the face that’s espied does present a small opportunity to perhaps have a small word of his own with the - lost boy.

❝ peter, dear boy... ❞

his voice is low enough not to carry, spoken with the tone of someone greeting an old friend.  though likely neither is under any illusion that that’s the case.  it’s just a notional show for the - mundanes- scattered at tables.  for the gaggle of mid teen girls engrossed in showing each other their instagram stories over a collective milkshake, while not entirely discretely flashing rather less innocent glances at the ‘college boy’ he’s addressing.  for the obvious awkward first date sitting at a table to one side - he’s sure one of the men in the ‘uncomfortable-couple’ is something of a regular in the clientele at wonderland. 

there’s a smile to accompany the words.  for now.  

❝ ...a moment of your time if you wouldn’t mind. ❞

send “@” for a SCARED text.

[ TEXT TO → PETER 💫✨ ]: peter , someone is following me. i’m on my way home , i don’t know what to do. i don’t think it’s one of the boys.[ TEXT TO → PETER 💫✨ ]: i’m not joking , i don’t know who it is , can i call you ?? i’m gonna call you. if i have to i’ll just leave you a weird, long voicemail so they think i’m on the phone.

send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

[ TEXT TO → PETER 💫✨ ]: some days i feel like i just can’t do it anymore , you know ? like i can’t even get out of bed in the morning.

send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.

‘ fuck your feelings . ’

her retort falls short when he spits out the words , stopping only to look over at him with such pure contempt that she isn’t quite sure how she keeps herself from reaching over the threshold and wrapping both delicate hands around his throat. she doesn’t know where the impulse comes from — the horrid depths of her person that she tries to keep nice and tidy , nothing left out of place , no smear of dark ink on her conscience, but god , if she didn’t know better , she’d say peter was the one who’d given her such awful thoughts in the first place. they hadn’t begun to bloom in the recesses of her mind until — it’s no matter , now. she unzips the jacket she wears; it’s his , of course , a scarlet bomber that is just as much of a calling card for her as it is for him , with how often it hangs from her shoulders instead. tosses it towards him as she faces him again , lips drawn in a snarl , teeth bared. she is the wolf’s mother , like this , with her hackles raised. truly , she doesn’t like who she becomes when he pushes and pushes and pushes her.

“   get out. get the fuck out of my apartment , peter.   ” it’s the first time she’s referred to it as her apartment and simply not home in decades. the words don’t tremble; they are steadfast and they burn with her animosity. she’ll get the locks changed , fuck it , she’ll move if she has to — she wants him out and she wants him out now , tired of his flippancy when it comes to her feelings , her thoughts. she does everything she can for him save murder and still , he walks about as though she is a doll to toss aside. he has been here long enough to have learned better , to know better , and yet he refuses , believing his childish ways will continue to enamor others. wendy swallows every terrible , screeching thought she has to hurt him , really hurt him , and stays glued just in the doorway of the foyer , fingers clutching the arch frame so hard her knuckles ache.

“   i said get out of my fucking apartment. don’t come back tonight— i don’t want to see you.   ”

‘ i’ve had dreams where there’s blood on you . ’

yours or mine ? someone else’s ? her head lifts off of her pillow just barely as she looks at him , lips parted in a way that makes it seem as though she knows fully well what she wants to say , but cannot. she doesn’t know how long she stays quiet for , but wendy knows her head presses into the pillow again , gaze distant. after minutes pass in silence , she finds her voice:

“   me too.   ”

‘ i’m just fine ‘cause i know that you are mine . ’

it’s supposed to be sweet , wendy tells herself. at least , she assumes it is; peter is a fan of games , maybe he’s lying again , building her up under false pretenses so he can knock her down again. if he is being true , it’s unfortunate for him that today wendy feels cold and empty. devoid of everything save the want to traipse off into the woods and disappear forever , not even a whisper of her left on his lips. i’m just fine— are you ? you are mine — am i ?