Metanoia - Peter Pan OUAT

Chapter Thirty Four

Metanoia stood nestled between the Lost Boys as they watched Theodore and Elijah lower Jeremy down into the earth. Her throat wobbled as she struggled to swallow the lump forming there all over again. She'd run out of tears, and all she could do now was feel the agonising pain of guilt and loss, with no tears left to spare. She couldn't bring herself to stand anywhere close to Jacob, who was crying silently as he watched his lifelong friend being buried in the graveyard by the waterfalls. He was resting right beside Tucker's grave, a gesture made by Pan without anyone even telling him to. He stood a few feet away from them, gazing at them all quietly.

Once Jeremy was placed in the earth below, Peter stepped forward, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Jeremy has been a Lost Boy for the past three centuries, and in his time, he's done nothing but fight for our borders' safety, perfect his duties, and abide by our laws. He was an admirable Lost Boy to follow in his legacy as a fair, quiet, and clever soldier, and I can only hope for you all to let his spirit live on through each and every one of you."

Metanoia's throat constricted as she felt the sour taste of bile crawl up her trachea. Instinctively, a hand was gently latched onto her own, and she glanced to her side for just a mere moment, watching the way David's face shot her comforting smile. It was barely noticeable on his face, but she spotted it with ease. She numbly let him hold her hand; despite not feeling any sense of comfort coming from his touch, Metanoia was grateful for the gesture.

Peter Pan stepped back and disappeared in an instant, allowing time for the Lost Boys to mourn for Jeremy, and Metanoia clenched her jaw angrily. She was far too occupied with the loss of a dear friend, that she'd barely thought about what had happened between her and Pan the day prior. Her cheeks reddened against her will as she recalled the way he'd handled her - so passionately that it made her feel dizzy. His hands were rough, and the way he towered over her while kissing her made her feel as though she was his prey and he was consuming her. Oddly enough, Metanoia didn't mind.

What irked her though, was the way he'd ripped himself off her so abruptly and left her without uttering a word. Metanoia hadn't spoken to him since, but she wasn't surprised by his reaction. Time and time again he'd fought her brutally, so affection was not in his playbook - and yet he'd shown her a fraction of it yesterday when he took care of her wounds and saved her. But that kiss was something which left Metanoia's heart beating erratically out of her chest every time she thought about it.

She felt ashamed for kissing him when her friend had just been killed. It made her guilt far worse than it already was, and for once, she was glad Peter had avoided her so far. She couldn't allow him near her like that again, not when Jeremy's soul had just recently left them, and she went off to kiss the Demon King himself.

"Come on, Noia. We should head back to camp." David hummed into her ear, placing a gentle, chaste kiss to her temple, and his arm wrapped itself around her back to guide her.

Metanoia let him. She gulped, her lips quivering as her eyes threatened her to cry again, but there truly weren't any more tears in her to shed. Her eyes focused on the ground before them, and she, along with all the Lost Boys, made their way back to camp.

~•~

She stayed in bed the entire afternoon, curled up under her blankets and facing her treehouse's window, watching the blue skies above as they slowly got suffocated by grey clouds. Winter was rolling in gradually, and Metanoia wondered what that season would be like on Neverland. She wished Jeremy would see it again. Metanoia sighed softly, briefly shutting her eyes, before prying them open when she heard a knock on her door.

Metanoia ignored it. Whoever was on the other end of the door would open it with or without her response anyway; it was what she had to deal with being surrounded by a group of boys who were oblivious to manners and privacy. Metanoia didn't really mind it, for if she were to change her clothes, she'd always be in her locked bathroom to do so.