It couldn't be a dream, could it?
Morning had never been this mechanical for me. I felt my head empty, without thoughts, without worries, without anything that troubled me last night. As usual, I got dressed, I had a quiet breakfast with my parents and was left free for the rest of my day.
Something, in my mind, was not right. Uncertain of this newfound tranquility I earned from last night's sleep, I had no clue why I felt so... bizarrely relaxed. For no particular reason, I was feeling better, both physically and mentally. Never in my life had sleep offered me this refreshing sensation.
And due to suspicions, I did not wish to welcome this feeling.
I saught answers. I needed them. I needed to know what was going on with that boy that abruptly barged into my bedroom last night, I needed to know about that strange book and about that dream I had. I needed to know. Desperately.
That night I had dreamt of a shadow, a shadow belonging to no one. It was floating around my room and I did nothing but stare at it, completely in awe by its graceful dance in the air. In the end, it just hovered over me and, the more I studied it, the more I felt drawn to it like a little helpless firefly to candlelight. The shadow remained still as it kept floating in mid air, waiting for me.
Waiting... for me?
That was the first time I had dreamt of that unidentified shadow.
It did not take long enough for all the anxiety, the frustration and ignorance to rush back once more, as they began clashing their swords in a battlefield of emotions, where only one would emerge victorious. An intense conflict in my head, a foreign weight on my chest and the recent events of the previous night flashing before my eyes.
There was only one place that I could possibly find a rational explanation to in this madness.
That one place I recalled him telling me to go.
The library.
Were it all to be real, he would be there.
Well, to be honest, not that seeing him there would make me feel any better or accept this as normal. As a matter of fact, it would only get worse.
The wise choice would be to inform the others about his intrusion, but that day I did not feel familiar with something as simple as rationality.
The trip to the library was anticipating. I felt the hair on my back rising as I slipped into the room, throwing one last glance behind in case someone happened to pass by and see me. I did seek that kind of attention at that moment. I should have definitely been prevented from proceeding with this.
I hadn't even had the time to turn around and close the doors when I heard that voice again.
“How lovely to see you here, Elise. Shocking, if I may add."
Alarmed as I was, I jumped in surprise and span around, pressing my back against the wood as I instantly spotted the same boy, named Peter, sitting on the windowsill with one leg stretched out and the other bent.
This boy was terrifyingly good at sneaking around.
"Oh my god, you're actually here," I murmured to myself, my words not meant to be heard by anyone but me.
And apparently, him.
"Slept well?" he just asked, shifting his nonchalant gaze from outside to my direction.
He was there.
So... So he was real?
Everything that happened last night was real?
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Named Peter Pan
Fanfiction"Would you follow me anywhere, then?" I smiled, tracing my fingers along the book as I studied the carved letters. His sudden silence set my heart racing and I felt, surprisingly so, nervous to hear his answer. But I knew if I played along, he would...
