Peter Pan and his Lost Boy // Jian AU

1.

•°Kian's POV°•

I set the cooked hamburger meat back on the stove after I had drained all of the disgusting grease from the pan. Everything has to be perfect tonight, yes, even the hamburger meat. I glance over at the pot of water and rush to get ready while it takes it's sweet time to boil. Stripping out of my pajamas-something I don't usually wear all day because it's frowned upon by my parents-and put on something else. I pull up my denim skinny jeans, slide into a red and white stripped tank top, a maroon leather jacket, and my white converse. They won't be impressed by my choice of clothing since I'm calling a family dinner, but I'm certainly not going to wear a tux to tell them something they're not going to like.

A sizzling noise catches my attention and I don't waste anytime running downstairs to check on my masterpiece. My eyes land on the bubbling water and I watch as some droplets fly over the rim, landing on the burner, and causing a sizzling noise to fill the kitchen. My body quickly takes action and I pour the angel hair noodles into the boiling hot water. I turn the burner down to medium and stir the noodles around so they don't get stuck to the bottom of the pot. Next, I walk over to pantry and grab a can of spaghetti sauce. As I'm looking for spices such as garlic, salt, and pepper, the can slips from my grasp, and lands directly on my foot. I yelp in pain as shock fills my body and bite my lip. I hate being this fucking nervous because it makes me extremely clumsy and shaky.

Take a deep breath, I coach myself. I put my hands on a shelf above my head, squeeze my eyes shut, and inhale. I need to stay calm otherwise this dinner is going to be a complete disaster. Plus, I need to do this, I've put this off for long enough, and it's time they both knew the truth about their only son. The thing that's making me so nervous is that I have absolutely no clue how they're going to react. To be honest, I don't know them well enough to know how they're going to react. You see, my parents are both very professional people who hardly spend anytime at home with their only son. Sure, they have buckets of money to throw around, and usually give me whatever I want, but their presence is more valuable than any amount of money.

I'm quickly reminded of the task at hand when I finally peel my eyes open. Slowly, I bend down and retrieve the can of spaghetti sauce. I'm going to make this the best damn dinner they've ever had.

^^

Rushing around, I try my best to set the table the way my parents used to when I was younger. When I turned six, my mom insisted on taking me away from my toys, and teaching me how to set the table properly. It took me about three weeks to finally get it to absolute perfection, and I remember seeing her so proud of me. As the years passed by I was asked to set the table less and less. The reason for that being my parents slowly got sucked into the world of business, eating in the loneliness of their studies, and leaving their ten year old son to eat alone at the dinner table. I quickly shake away the disturbing thoughts of my childhood, and continue to set the table.

My brown eyes sweep over to the door and the sound of jiggling keys fill my ears. Shit, they're home. I run across the tile floor and go into the kitchen, just to double check on the food. Hopefully I didn't fuck up like I normally do and leave the burner on or something. I let out a loud breath, relieved to find the food still looking and smelling delicious.

"Kian, we're home," my mother calls from the front hall. I hear her loudly drop her keys into the bowl by the door, the sounds causing me to flinch.

"Hey mom, I'm in the kitchen," I call back, combing my hair through my blonde locks, a nervous habit. I hear two pairs of footsteps coming towards the kitchen and my breathing picks up. Oh my, this is really happening, I'm really going to do this.

"Hmm, it smells delicious in here son! What came over you today?" my dad smiles, entering the kitchen first. I give him a weak smile, intertwining my fingers together so they wouldn't notice the shaking. "Oh, spaghetti, this must be a special occasion."