Thirteen Forever ~Peter Pan Love Story~ <DISCONTINUED>

Unlocking Secrets

"One girl worth more than twenty boys." -J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

-First Person/Misty- Quick Note: This is another looonnngggg chapter!

My skin almost on fire, Peter and I pranced through the still forest, or at least, I pranced. Peter, continued being distant. It almost concerned me. Although my instincts calmed me. It was clearly obvious Peter wasn't meaning to be distant, why would he be in the first place? Maybe, it wasn't distance but maybe him just being wary. After all, I did tell him about Princess Tiger Lily's ghost, or spirit, whichever. Coarse, the fear of her still lingered inside of me.

It's hard to believe such a thing existed in such a place as Neverland. How can something so terribly gaunt and hideous even roam, or breath, in such a prodigious and wonderfully lively place? Although taking in the type of knowledge a dead Neverland gave, I guess it's clear enough to find how ugly death can make something that was once beautiful (if you haven't noticed, there's a ton of examples of that. Shall we review them?). When I lost my mother and father, it made my once beautiful family picture a mess. My once beautiful family picture flourished, falling to the pieces I continue to struggle picking up. And Neverland, it was once beautiful, until the tsunami came, wiping out it's beauties, including the once beautiful, and innocent, Princess Tiger Lily. Now, it's hard to even dream of what things were once like. A slight shadow doomed upon my spirit. "Peter?" I asked with just enough dejection to grab and capture Peter's eyes.

Slowing my pace, I met Peter's side.
"Yeah?" Hesitating a moment, I revised my question.
"Is it...getting a bit harder trying to remember the old Neverland?" There was an agonizing silence before he responded.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said, don't act like you didn't understand it." I knew he was acting like he didn't know. For he was trying to avoid opening up to me. I thought we got past the trust issues. Was I the only one that got past those issues? "Peter." His pace was slowly increasing, soon his figure passing me. My heart frowned a bit. I rushed back to his side. But still, he was ahead of me. "Peter, please, stop." He finally halted. I was clearly getting upset and clearly annoying him. I caught his glance again...or at least tried. It was perfectly conspicuous he was trying to avoid my eye's. This saddened me even more. I felt awkward and out of place when he did that. It's like I did something, but I didn't know what it was that stunned him so acutely (trust me, acutely is a word). My feet froze a moment, my hope's high on getting his attention. But strange enough, I didn't get his attention.

He continued walking ahead of me, my image seemed to be disintegrating in his mind. My enthusiasm seemed to be disintegrating along with that image. Clearly, something had happened to make Peter act so. But what? I plopped down upon the forest ground, watching as Peter's figure grew smaller and smaller. I was losing him, but didn't care. I was determined to figure out what Peter's issue was and when he'd notice my trail of footsteps had faded behind his very own back I held onto for so long, rather then my grandmother's. And sadly, I was beginning to regret watching my grandmother's face slip through my finger's.

-First Person/Peter-

I felt, as the humid air began to caress my body. My heart pounded the truth inside my ear's, but I shook my head, hoping the truth would fall out and land on the ground at which my feet continuously stomped. I wanted to be normal, healed, and heavily asleep. But not even when I slept, the pain would disappear. It'd break through my thought's and over power my dream's terribly, forcing me back awake. It's like the pain wanted to torture me, ruin me, kill me. But I guess death would be the answer. After all, everything else was dead. My youth including. Whats the point in growing up? Grown ups were miserable. That is what kept me so childish and so potent and so energized. For I did not have to worry about this hellish thing such as love. For I did not have to worry about broken hearts or broken dreams.

What are dreams anymore? Nothing to me, nothing at all. It was clear my dreams had been the things that came crashing down on me. They caused me to believe that love was okay, that it was defiantly there to heal my never-ending loneliness and not shatter my forever warming happiness. How could I have been so stupid to let Wendy in? It's because of that I felt the way I did now. Oh, and to think I knew better then! To think I know anything at all!

But, surly, I knew the reasons I pretended to not understand Misty's question. Why must I be so transparent? I just wanted to forget about Misty's lovely burnished figure. My urges have not faded away, and apparently, neither has my vulnerable. My heart was still vulnerable to Misty. Her beauty made me want to get so close to her, but I knew I couldn't, that was why I tried to stay away from opening up to her. Because if I did that, I'd fall in love with her, just as I did Wendy.

Oh, she has no idea what hurt was like! She had no idea was emptiness felt like! Pain! Regret! Sorrow! Nothing at all! She has never felt the feeling of losing someone! And she told me herself. Her parents love her, people love her. ("Her parents love her? But they are dead, right?" They most defiantly are! *Hint *hint remember in the beginning where Misty shared her story?) No one loves me anymore! No one! Ever since I actually felt love, even though it broke me to pieces, I've wanted it to engulf me ever since. Though, I'm scared to let it engulf me. I was in no needs of replaying the past. My walls are up now, and their up twice as advanced! Now that I was exposed to the chance of love again, I wasn't going to take that chance once more...Never...never again. (It's pretty clear Peter is back and forth with his emotion's, LOL!)

-Third Person Omniscient-

Tragedy struck when Misty soon realized Peter wasn't coming back for her. For he knew her plan, she was almost as transparent as he. It wasn't long before she had discovered this and it wasn't long before she had caught up with Peter too. They were back at the tree house. Peter remained being distant, but only for a little while. Misty still couldn't get a word out of him though. For he was wise enough to know his limits. And he knew he was making his distance obvious, but had trifle worries. He thought she'd get over his behavior awfully quickly. But what Misty was really doing was debating whether she should stay here, with him. For the escape plan was being wonderfully plotted in her mind. Misty knew his transparency was fading, thickening into a cold and hard shell, a shell she could not break. And she knew that. In fact, her transparency was thickening as well.

Of coarse Peter couldn't break through her shell either. For what lingered in her thought's began to make him contemplate even more then before. His first assumption was collapsing, terribly flourishing then falling to a pile of dust. Though the dust was not fairy dust. Peter and Misty were both changing rapidly. Both tried to go about normally although tension was terribly over-taking the air. "Peter," Misty asked, as normal as possible.
"Yeah?"
"You said you had a brush, or comb." Peter nodded, digging through a clutter of hygiene products. Misty watched awkwardly, trying to act impatient on the outside. Out from behind Peter flung a bunch of items, him unaware they were annoying Misty. She this time, grew impatient for real and marched to his side, bending down next to him. She dug through the mess with him, although apart from him aswell. He responded to her action's by scooting slightly from her, creating air between the two.

Both still at the pile till something caught Misty's shimmering blue eye's. Peter continued digging. Misty parted the mysterious item from the pile. Peter soon gave up after realizing Misty found the item. It was a rectangular shaped box. Big enough to fit...

-First Person/Misty-

"Ah, there it is." I watched as Peter took the box from my hand's. A bit angry with him, I snatched it away from his hand's and opened it. There before my eye's shown a blazing gold brush. The back facing Peter and I, I examined it's features that were a bit faded with dust that seemed to be collected over a few years. Peter then grabbed the box and blew the dust off it. The particles captured my face within a dreadfully torture of coughs and sneezes. Still coughing, I managed to croak a noise.
"I thought you said you cleaned it."
"I did!"
"Well then why is it so dusty?" More coughs followed.
"How the hell am I suppose to know? Maybe it's because I haven't used it." My eye's immediately shot to his hair. A mess of brown frizzy curls tackled his head. For it was terribly over grown, and terribly tangley. I snorted.
"Well obviously, just look at your hair."
"Hey, respect the curls." I rolled my eye's and grabbed the box, once more, from his hands. Soon, I opened it once more and grabbed the brush. I then attacked my own set of curl's. Yanking and pulling through the half dried mess, my leg's grew tired and I sat down. Peter than began to mess with the hygiene items, gathering them and placing them back in the corner.

I felt as the brush caught another tangle of mine. Casually, I tried pulling through it but couldn't. With frustration, I grabbed the end of my hair and began brushing the tangle slowly. But even then I couldn't break through the thickness of it. So, I tried something no girl should EVER do. Letting go of my end's, I then took both hands and gripped the brush handle, pulling forcefully down. The pain was terribly extreme and I couldn't help but try and give up. But the brush stayed, this time, it was stuck, stuck until the strand was to be cut off. But no, I was not going to cut off a huge amount of my hair. Not for the life of me!

I then started back on what I was doing. And to think Peter's hair was tangly. Within the ripping of my hair, I squeezed me eye's shut to try and numb out the pain. But it didn't work and I yelped in agony. Immediately, I closed my mouth once I noticed Peter's hesitant hand's. For I was not going to make it obvious my hair was just as messy as his. That's just a mistake leading to embarrassment. So, I continued to pull my hair, not making any noise. Peter returned to his gathering.

The pain got intense the further I pulled. And slowly, it became harder and harder not to cry out. And eventually, I did. And it was loud enough to wake America up, I'm sure! Just then, Peter whirled around, just as I knew would happen and ran to my side. "Misty? Are okay?!" I turned my head to hide the mess and dropped my hand's...completely and utterly embarrassed, although I knew Peter didn't know about my tangle yet. "Misty, are you okay? Why'd you cry out like that?"
"I was just...uh...singing?"
"You were what?"
"Singing."
"That was singing?" I nodded quickly, my face flushed in red.
"Well that was just awful." My head shot in his direction.
"I'll have you know, lots of people love my singing!" Lifting my chin this time, I stood up. Peter stood up shortly after.
"Well then those people must be deaf." Gasping with offense, I slapped him across the face. He winced in pain, soon crying out.
"Ouch! That hurt!"
"It was suppose to!" This time, I didn't care whether he saw my mess of hair, and walked away. How dare he feel free to insult me like that!
"Misty why'd you slap me?!" With anger, I turned my back to him. I felt as he walked toward me, repeating himself. Shaking my head, I responded, in offense toward him.
"You should know!"
"Honestly, no, I don't." I turned to face him and crossed my arm's over my chest.
"Are you really that dumb to not know?!"
"Probably." I gasped and walked away from him, throwing my hand's in the air.
"Unbelievable! Unbelievable that you're that low-leveled of a gentlemen!"
"Not a gentleman?"
"How dare you insult me! That's no gentleman!"
"You don't know every gentleman."
"No, but I certainly know that's no trait of a gentleman!"
"And how do you know?"
"I know!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but that's not how you sing."
"How do you know how I sing?" This silenced him. For a moment, I waited. "Well...?" His eye's fell to the ground.
"I-I....listened."
"Listened? What are you talking about?" He looked up once more.
"The first night I saw you."
"The first night you saw me?" He nodded.
"It was the night I borrowed-"
"Kidnapped, you mean?"
"Whatever, it was the night I kidnapped you. It was before you laid down for bed. You were unpacking boxes, and I heard you singing." I blushed a little with embarrassment.
"So, was it...bad?" Peter shook his head vigorously.
"No, not at all! It's was-"
"Good?"
"No...it was soothing, an-and...."
"Beautiful?" I asked, a smirk on my face. He nodded. Blushing, I couldn't help but try and hide my smile.
"So you weren't singing?" I snapped out of my state and widened my eye's.
"Oh! Uh, no."
"I knew it!"
"Then why'd you play along!?"
"So you wouldn't feel embarrassed." Wanting to smile even more, I acted as if I wasn't so easy phased, that I wasn't such a girl.
"Well then now I feel bad for insulting you!" He smiled and walked toward me, I backed into the wall of the tree.
"Hey, I insulted you. So, it's fair. Don't feel bad." Breaking the romantic moment, I slid out from behind his body. His eye's followed my body as I switched directions.
"Well I'm going to!" Peter laughed.
"Why are you so stubborn?"
"I'm not stubborn!"
"Yes you are, you won't admit you're blushing and smiling on the inside."
"No!" He walked away from the wall and toward me again.
"Just give it up Misty. You and I both know you're blushing."
"Don't assume things about me!" With an overwhelming frustration of him being right about me, I left him again and sat down with defeat. I heard Peter laugh and sit down next to me. I felt his eye's but refused to met them with my own.
"Fine, then at least let me help you get that brush out." My stiffness broke and I shot up.