Charlotte had only ever heard she was normal. When she lands on Neverland, it's no exception. She, like many others, is just another lost one. With one small exception.
Peter Pan, is anything but what he's supposed to be. He's rough edges, smirks an...
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SONG TO LISTEN TO: Heathens- Twenty-One Pilots
"Charlie."
I hear my name before I feel him shaking me. I open my eyes, and it's too dark to see, but the voice belongs to Johnny. His voice is barely audible; a whisper's whisper.
It's late, and I can't imagine him waking me up unless he absolutely needs me.
I slowly sit up, as he puts a finger to my lips. He helps me stand up, holding me firmly and bringing me outside. I stumble along, trying to wake myself up. It's gotten easier to be suddenly awake since my time here. Much easier. Still, I do need a small period of adjustment.
"Johnny, what is it?" I nearly trip over a few twigs and vines, bracing myself against him.
Moving through the forest is easier. A lot is easier here in fact. Maybe I'm learning something.
Something I'm not supposed to know.
The air is cool, and cuts through my cloak. If it were windy, then I'd be in trouble. At least for now I can cling to Johnny for warmth. I wonder where he's taking me.
He brings me a few feet further from the cave, until he let's go. My eyes are adjusting, and the sky is full of stars so it's getting easier and easier to see, though as of right now I can mostly only see his outline.
The stars are beautiful, like twinkling dots in the sky. Everything feels magical. A silent forest, a dark and cool night. It takes me right out of the violence and brings me back. The air smells like fresh dirt and leaves. Even the soft burn of hunger somehow feels right, as if the universe is feeding me.
Johnny stops moving, kneeling at the base of a tree. I bend down in to get a closer look, but Johnny sticks out his hands holding me back.
The forest is silent. Not even the animals, beasts or boys dare make a sound. His cloak flaps against him as he shakes, pulling out something from his pocket. I look up and breathe out, my breath visible through the night. It's normally cold at night here, but not cold enough that I can see my breath. It could be the cold that shakes me, or how low my blood sugar is.
Johnny grunts, and I hear something sliding along a hard surface, then a snap.
"Shit." He mutters, dropping the broken thing.
Matches.
He begins to try and strike the matches again. I can finally make out more things in the dark, but he blocks my view from the base of the tree.
The match hisses as it's lit, and he grabs my hand, pulling me down next to him.
The flame glows through the dark, illuminating the base of the tree. Johnny's hand, holding the match, touches soft skin. The match itself is essentially pressed up against the cheek of a boy, whose panicking eyes dart from the dangerously close flame to my eyes
