The Boy Named Peter Pan

P E T E R

The boy almost sighed in annoyance when the water droplet got in his eye, momentarily blurring his vision. He placed his hand over his eyes as he looked up and through the vast, entangled branches towering over his figure. The grey piles of clouds adorned the afternoon sky wonderfully.

Rain it is, huh.

He had to admit, one thing that irritated him was that he had not the ability to control Neverland's weather. Well, the weather's unpredictability was admittedly entertaining as the one thing he had no control over, but still. He would prefer to adjust it to his liking and current mood.

Marching farther ahead into the forest down the narrow path, he couldn't help the impatient grin growing on his face. Today was an important day for his plan and he had to be prepared for Elise's arrival properly. Plus, a moment of reminisce with an old "friend" was scheduled for the day, so he had a lot of things to anticipate for.

The path leading to the treehouse in the northeast of the island was mostly blocked with tall grass, vines and a variety of wildlife that had grown over the years. It was indeed hard to navigate around these parts, but he was glad to deduce that no other person had stepped here in a very long time. Fortunately, the Boys had listened to his order.

After many twists and turns along the way, he finally stood before the familiar river; despite seemingly insignificant, its inhabitants were far from that. The river's water poured into the Lake of Regret, where it was off-limits precisely because of its inhabitants traveling back and forth. He had to protect the Boys somehow from them and the deal he had struck with the inhabitants would not be enough to guarantee their safety.

Crossing the river, he carried on with his stroll. A few minutes later, he caught sight of the tall treehouse hiding among the trees. He halted, studying the rectangular windows. A figure walked past by the window inside and another amused grin crawled up on his face.

Oh, she was here then. Good.

He leaned his body against the nearest tree, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes wandered around the area. Turning their attention back to the window again he last spotted her, Peter smirked slightly as he came up with an idea.

Opening his right palm, he softly blew and redirected the breeze towards the treehouse, which forced its way into the window. He heard a loud gasp as soon as it bursted open and there appeared she was again, hurrying to close it.

Their eyes met instantly.

The girl stood frozen in place; her lips parted as she muttered something, which he guessed to be his name. And even though she looked shocked to see him there, he was more than entertained when he spotted the discomfort her gaze held when it met his.

Pushing himself up, a provocative grin tugged on his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, Tink? Aren't you going to let me up?"

She seemed at a loss of words at first, as she repeatedly opened and closed her mouth. How couldn't she be, anyway? It was years ago since the last time he had personally come here and his last visit had been more than... unpleasant. After what had happened, she thought she would never see Peter Pan at her doorstep ever again- or at all for that matter.

"I..." was all she managed to say before retreating back inside. He tilted his head to the side curiously until he saw the hatch leading up opening and a rope ladder being thrown for him to climb.

"A wise choice," he said, certain she had heard him.

Soon, he found himself in the familiar workshop/residence of the little fairy, his eyes roaming around the room. Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed inside, not even the living conditions of the fairy. The house remained as tidy and clean as ever like the little neat freak she had always been. The only mess could be spotted on her little worktable with some half-filled, half-empty vials scattered all over it, pouches overfilled with fairydust littering the space while some of it was spilled all over the rest of her unorganized working tools.