Peter Pan Imagines (Once Upon a Time)

Jealousy for the Centuries

Neverland is rarely short on entertainment. Still, on a day like today, all claustrophobic heat and humming insects, rattling pines and stiff branches, you can't help but wish for something a little more invigorating. It's not like you to feel trapped on this island; you chose it, after all, and you would choose it time and time again for all the centuries you have yet to witness, but then again, the urge to run still remains.

You could use a little something to break the stillness. The quiet mornings keep your mind spiraling in search of something to occupy your hours, and when you think for too long a time, you reach the one topic of consideration that you wish you wouldn't know at all. This would be, of course, the fact that you love Peter Pan, and the corresponding fact that he couldn't care less about you.

That isn't to say that Peter hates you, he never could. You're one of his Lost Boys, and that means that he would keep you by his side until the end of the world so long as you didn't do a foolish thing like betray him. Most of these boys have been here for centuries. You've forgotten when it was that you arrived on Neverland, only that you would be content with never, ever leaving.

The problem came with the years in between then and now, the decades that rose and fell and left you here, gathering dust on the ground, lost in your own mind. You were not meant to love Peter; no one was, that's why he is the way that he is and the rest of you are the same, but yet you managed it.

You're not sure if that love is a victory or a curse, or merely just a testament to your spitfire way of never taking a no for an answer. Regardless, it dogs your footsteps, sinks you down into ash and mud, leaves you lonely in the one place where you should never have to be alone again.

Still, you have had your time of watching Peter from a distance, of pretending that he could love you back even half as fiercely as you love him. It will never come about, but you are on an island destined for the nevers and have-nots and couldn't-bes, so you feel serene about letting your own heartbreak beat upon you like the tides upon the shore.

A shout from the camp drags you out of your reverie, and you join the growing throngs of Lost Boys in streaming into the center of the main clearing to see what the fuss is about. One of the boys, Devin, has come sprinting in from the direction of the beaches. Hands on his knees, he's bent double as he tries to catch his breath, but you can tell from the excited shine in his eyes that whatever news he bears is worth hearing.

At last, he manages to contain himself long enough to gasp out his piece. "Ships on the shore," he chokes out, "I've seen them. Black sails. I think it might be–"

"Pirates," a voice finishes behind him, and the Lost Boys turn as one to see Peter Pan strolling out of the woods from the direction of his Thinking Tree.

Devin nods. "Did you see them too?"

Peter lifts a shoulder. "I can feel them approaching our waters."

He shudders slightly, as if the sensation of oncoming pirates is just about as friendly as insects swarming your skin or having your hair set on fire.

The Lost Boys break out into excited murmurs. Visitors to Neverland are rare, often decades in between, and pirates typically make for some good memories. They're always stunned to find a beautiful, magical island populated by a mess of immortal teenagers, you're always welcome to a fight that you'll win, and both parties part ways with a story they'll tell for generations to come.

Peter nods solemnly, as if he can tell where your respective trains of thoughts are going. "Yes, pirates. Stay on your guard, boys. They're likely not to be trusted, but then again, are we?"

You and the other Lost Boys break out into raucous calls of never, never, and Peter grins. "Let's give them a proper welcome, then, shall we?"

With that, the camp is lost in a flurry of boys rushing to get their bows and arrows, spears hurriedly shined, and daggers fished out of old cloaks. You melt in with the rest, hurrying down the hills towards the edge of the forest. You can see a distant speck of a ship in the distance, but as the winds ferry it closer to the banks of your beloved island, you start to see corners of dark, inky sails, spires of masts, and ant-like pirates scurrying over the decks.