a story of understanding what makes malcolm grow up to become peter pan, a young boy who never grows up.

"They claim that you are.. promiscuous, and unashamedly so." I said boldly, as we were alone in the vast hall. "Promiscuous?" he chuckled, a sheepish grin crawling upon his face. "No, Ms Devereaux, I simply dip my cup where there is plenty, and my dear, the world's pleasures are undoubtedly plentiful." he stated, lowering his voice. His eyes - full of mischief as he tossed the apple, catching it in his palm as it fell. "If only you are willing take them." He placed the fruit in my hand and with a nod of his head, he turned on his heel and left me without words.. {cover creds: robbie-idkay on Tumblr}

"Because you've forgotten what it's like to actually feel something." I whispered. Peter's expression softened and the only sounds between us were the steady unsynchronized breaths falling from our lips. He swallowed, the closeness of our bodies making my heart beat faster and adrenaline course through me. The feeling was neither pleasant nor unpleasant as I looked into his forest green eyes. "How can you make me feel so belittled with only words?" his troubled voice fell into a whisper and he gripped my shoulders. "Is it your goal to stand before me and pull me apart until I am nothing?"

"I don't want to exist, I want to live. I want even the darkest pieces inside her. I want to kiss the sorrow off her skin. Isn't that what love is? Isn't that what this beautifully constructed torture feels like? But I want the same from her. The power-hungry part of me wants something in return. I want her to love even the most monstrous parts of me. I want her to love me for the madman I am."