Falling In (Peter Pan FanFic)

Chapter 4

I finally got the energy to get off of the ground and check the food, which had burnt a small bit. After setting it out on the table, filling glasses with fresh water, I walked over to the back door and glanced outside. 

Peter was still nowhere to be found.

I felt a cold breeze on my back and turned around. Jumping out of fear, I saw Peter standing in the middle of the room. "Peter!" I ran and hugged him, feeling safer now that he was home. He squeezed me as if he were saying goodbye.

I wish I would have known at that moment that that was the last time he'd have been acting normal. And that he was saying goodbye.

He pulled back and looked at me, admiring my beauty. "I saw you made leftovers."

I nodded with the biggest smile on my face. Peter wouldn't budge a smirk. "Is something wrong?"

He dropped his head, staring at the ground. I watched his chest move up and down, as he slowly took in oxygen. "No, just glad you're home." He finally looked at me, and took my hand, leading me into the dining room.

*****

"Why wouldn't I be home?" I asked, taking a bite of my food.

Peter shrugged, "Nevermind that." I could tell he was hiding something from me.

We both continued to eat as if nothing had happened earlier today. Peter didn't make any more eye contact with me unless he had to. Finally, I had the guts to strike up a conversation while we finished our food.

"So, I had a visit from a palace guard while you were gone."

Peter suddenly dropped his silverware, and looked at me, shocked. There was a moment of silence as he stared at me with the most horrified look on his face. "What did he say..?"

I gulped, afraid that Peter might beat something, or throw his glass on the ground out of anger. "H-he told me that-"

"Spit it out! I haven't got all night Bailey!"

I froze in my chair, wanting to shrink so that he could not see me. His eyes were raging with fire, and now was standing up, his hands in a fist. "I- I have until tomorrow morning to be at the palace. He said-"

Peter sat down, finally calming down after his major outbreak. "When was he here?" he quietly asked.

"Uh, maybe 20 minutes before you got here?" I sunk down in my seat. "He also knows... That we-"

"Is there dessert?" he interrupted, changing the conversation.

"Well, no-"

"You didn't make strawberry shortcake?" he was getting mad again.

"I can make it now..." Now I felt like some sort of slave to him. He was treating me like a maid, interrogating me on why I did this, why I did that.

He followed me into the kitchen, putting his plate by the sink. "I'll do the dishes."

I looked up at him, confused on the mood he was in. It was as if he would change his attitude every five minutes. "That's fine." I set a rag down on the counter and started for the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked sternly.

I dropped my head and forced myself into the kitchen. "I was going upstairs to go to bed. Why are you so concerned about what I'm doing?"

He rolled his eyes. "I was going to-"

"What's this?!" I picked up a folded letter from the small island, holding it up to Peter's eye level.

"Don't read-"

I had already opened it up and started to scan the letter. "You knew about it! You didn't even warn me about the guard coming and you sent me home when he was going to come!"

"I sent you home because he was supposed to come while you were at the market!"

"Peter why didn't you tell me anyways! You're acting so weird today! And this whole week you've been going off-"

I kept complaining but he didn't listen. He kept washing the dishes, tuning me out.

Maybe I was the problem he left. All I did that day was complain. I wouldn't want to be around someone who nagged on and on about how I was acting.

Though, he may have been the problem also. Peter was the one acting up all week. He was the one that was rude to me. He most likely left just to get himself together.

When he was done with the dishes, he took me by the hands, looking down at my lips. "Bailey, I really am sorry for how I acted today."

Wrong.

    I wish that was what he did. But of course, he was a jerk.

    "I want you upstairs, now."

    "Are you ever going to say please?" I put my hands on my hips.

    "Are you ever going to do as I ask? I thought wives were supposed to follow the man's instructions."

    "When did you ever consider me as a wife?"

    "I'll meet you upstairs."

    "Uh!" I stormed up to my room, shutting the door as loudly as possible.