#c:peter2

p a n:

“……” He was quick to ball up his fist and the other would be quick to feel a tightness around his throat that nearly cut off his air. Peter didn’t even look at the Lost Boy as he stared ahead with a calm.. though all of the land around him seemed to shudder into silence.. as if preparing for a storm that would destroy the land.

“… What?” He asked, grip tightening. Wil didn’t… he couldn’t. Teeth bared finally, showing he was angry.. if that could even be the right word to use. “That disgusting pirate runt.. he dares to think.. to even imagine he could use Wil… my own son?” He let Baelfire go to at least make sure he didn’t suffocate. “If you’re lying, you will pay dearly.” His voice was calm… almost if not just like Kheelan’s had been before harming someone. “That damned vermin dares to use him.. he… he can’t! He can’t!” Peter yelled. “I’m going to kill that lowly pirate!” And he was off, full of only ideas of how Harry was pretending to return feelings to Wil, to use his son.. to use and destroy his heart when he was done… a broken heart.. Peter was gone and on a hunt for the Hook boy.

If this was what Bae intended would happen, he just got his wish… Peter was going to shred the boy into such small pieces that not even insects could get the pieces!

     The stunned silence that followed the words that had slipped from Baelfire’s mouth was scary enough. The next singular syllable word paired with a sudden tight grip around his neck added another layer to that fear. Gasping for dear life as the hand around his neck began to imprint a bruise with every passing, Baelfire’s small hands wrapped around Pan’s wrist in a hopes to pull himself free. “I-I. . . P-P-pa~!” His eyes squeezed shut as he prayed that it would all be over soon. 

     His wish was granted, but only slightly. Air flooded Baelfire’s lungs with the sudden release of his throat forcing him to sharply swallow oxygen like a fish. He collapsed to his knees coughing upon being freed. One hand gripped at the soil below as the other rubbed his newly marked neck. “I-I wouldn’t l-lie about feelings. . . B-But I accept my fate. . .” If he were to die for speaking the truth that Wil had told him then so be it. He hadn’t lied. He rarely lied. He wasn’t scared of Pan’s wrath. He lived through it once, he could do it again. What truly terrified the chipped teacup of a boy was. . . 

     “W-Wil!” Without a second to lose, Baelfire scrambled to his feet before darting off through the dense Neverland forest. He had to find Wil before Pan got to Harry or it could be too late for his brother and his ex-boyf-person.  As he ran, he knew what trouble he was running into. He was running toward Wil who would more than likely hate him for going to Pan to confess something that he had intended to get advice about.  In reality, he had no choice. He couldn’t go to Wil’s birth father because his knowing things seemed to make Wil even angrier. He just kept messing up and causing things to happen without meaning for them too.  He had to prepare for Wil to yell at him. Call him a traitor, a jerk, and any other mean thing he could think of. . .  He was ready for the consequences of his actions, even if they would tear him to pieces.

     Nearly completely out of breath, Baelfire ran through camp to find Wil. Panic was in his eyes as he rounded a tree and crashed into the Prince of Neverland. “W-Wil! Thank goodness! It’s Harry, h-he’s in danger! I-It’s -- It’s your dad! He’s going to kill him!” 

There was a silence around them as Peter stares at Baelfire, looking like he was debating.. until- “Hmmm no, you’re going to take care of him. I can take care of him just as well laddie and love him, but he needs a different sort of love to.. so nah, you’re staying with him.. and if not, I may have to tie you to a tree”

Baelfire looked at Peter, staring at him when he stared back at him. “You can’t. . .Tie me to a tree for thinking that you are better at giving him love than I am and better at taking care of him. . .Even if the love you can give him is different than the love I can and- . . .  Wait. . . Your way of making me stay with him is by tying me to a tree? How would that help. . .?”

Baelfire was beyond conflicted at what Peter was offering him. Freedom. For anyone in Baelfire’s position, the choice was BEYOND easy-- to leave. You just take Peter’s hand and leave. Every worry, every fear, every restless night disappeared with a single world. For anyone with two eyes, it should be easy, but not for Baelfire.  Because, for Baelfire, what was holding him back was the fact that he was all his Papa had left. . .

That touch, though. . . Though from callused hands, it was soft, warm, and something that Baelfire hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. It almost made his heart ACHE to feel the kind touch that reminded him so much of his mother’s before she left them all those years ago. 

‘You need to spread your wings.’ Baelfire’s baby brown hues searched Peter’s forest green ones for only a moment before they lowered to the windowsill. “Spread my wings and be free?” He said the thought out loud. Because of his Papa’s stubbornness and pride, Baelfire was a prisoner but could Baelfire bring himself to be selfish enough to make the choice to leave him behind if it means freeing himself? He would be leaving EVERYTHING he’d ever known -- his Papa and his home -- for a chance to be free. . . Could he do it? “If I go with you, I can never come back here again?” Baelfire turned around to look at the rest of his room, “Not even if I wish it, it could never be? What about Papa?” the boy’s eyes softened down to his and Peter’s hands, “. . .Could he come too?”

“Is this your way of apologizing?”

“Did I ask for you to touch me?” 

“–No. The answer is no.”

“Peter look! I’m a Ba-a-a-a-a-eby.” the little brunet laughed, doing his best sheep impression.