The Lost Boy [ A Larry Stylinson/Peter Pan AU ]

There are many times in life when we stop, and look up at the sky before screaming into it's void one word;
Why?
In my simple life I had never paused to ask such a question, for I never had a reason to. I never had any desire for an answer.
Yet today as I watched the pastor bless the graves of my parents, and beloved sister I wanted to drop to my knee's prior to throwing my head back and shrieking at the man above.
When my parents had informed me they were going into the country to visit a relative, I wouldn't have imagined them never coming home again with my sister who had decided to tag along.
Many people told me I was blessed that I hadn't been involved in the ear piercing crash of the train Saturday afternoon a week ago, but I didn't feel blessed. I didn't feel like I had been pardoned from my assured death sentence, I felt empty and dead inside.
The day my parents had decided to take the trip with my sister I had taken ill with a high fever; so they left me in the care of one of their good friends who lived next door.
Less then two hours after them taking part I had learned the dreadful news over the radio that their train had gone down the wrong track and collided with another steamer head first.
At first I had refused to believe the painful news, I snubbed the reality of my life changing situation, but now I was standing above my sister's grave letting the memories I shared with her choke me in a wave of emotion as a tear slipped down my pale cheek.
When I had finally excepted the concept of their death's I immediately stopped eating, forgot how to sleep, and was in a state of never ending misery. I felt like I was going to die from the large amount of pressure present in my chest, and drown from the ever so heavy flowing of my tears.
With out them I felt lost, I didn't know what to do. I wasn't much for my age, I was five seven, had to much curly brown hair, and was pale. I had the ability to work in factories, but I didn't want to be condemed to that life style which would only add onto my misery.
Before my parents had died I was a straight A student in school, and had high ambitions that we were all pitching in money for.
Now I couldn't see those ambitions clearly.
"And may they rest in God's promise for enternity, amen." The pastor finished, making the sign of the cross as he closed his book, and everyone muttered a soft 'amen' prior to making a sign of the cross as well.
Once this was done everyone present either went inside or stayed near the empty graves to watch the coffins be dropped in.
I was one of these people.
It was a painful sight to watch, seeing the bolted coffins with the damaged bodies of my family be dropped into the ground, but I contained my brimming tears.
Soon, with in two minutes the grave diggers were tossing the dirt from the piles near by into the holes the coffins now rested in.
I watched them quietly, feeling so much sorrow I couldn't seem to mutter the faintest goodbye as I pursed my pink lips that were turn a bit blue from standing out the British cold of the cemetary for so long.
When the hole that held my mother's coffin was half full I tossed in one of the flowers I had grabbed from the dying bunch in her vase back at our empty home, and finally looked away.
Blowing out a long breath that made a white puff cloud in the chilled air, I stuffed my hands into the pocket of my dad's coat I hadn't parted with since I got word of the accident, and walked inside the warm funeral home where everyone was gathered to mourn with each other over three people that meant more to me then they ever could to them.
Upon me walking inside in my silent state the present company became quiet as all red rimmed eyes drifted me, a look of sympathy present on all of their faces.
Looking away from the crowd in a strange sense of shame, I decided to go back outside into the chilly fall air, because I didn't want people giving me that look. That look of sympathy bothered me, I wanted people to leave me alone in my misery.
When I got outside I was unsure of where to go since most the funeral company was inside now, so I walked over to one of the nearby benches and sat down so I could stare at the dull scenery of the cemetary.
I had no idea what was going to happen now, my minor fate was in the hands of the adults who knew me.
"Harry?" A soft voice then said, and I looked up to see my Grandma Jane wrapped in black shawls, and clothed in a cotton black dress. "Hi." I said quietly, looking back down to the ground as I sat back against the spine of the bench, and she sighed softly as she sat next to me.
My Grandma Jane was my mum's mother, a very fine woman might I add.
"Are you alright dear?" She asked, resting a wrinkled hand on my arm, and I shrugged in response for I had no words to state my emotions. "I heard you haven't been handling things well." She informed me, and I glanced at her briefly with a nod to confirm the information.
My mum always taught me it was proper to give my full attention to elders when they spoke; so I did; even though I was afraid looking at my Gran would make me sob because she looked just like my mum.
Sighing softly she took my gloved hand in hers, and gave it a soft squeeze. "Well if it's any comfort I've learned where you'll be living now." She said, and immediately I sat up a little straighter with curiousity.
"Where?" I asked, my voice dry, but hopeful. "We've decided to send you to live with your aunt, and uncle in London. There you'll have your best chances for a successful future, and I'm sure be able to start over." She said, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach with disappointment.
Secretly I had been hoping to live with Grandma Jane, because she was by a long shot my favorite relative, and understood me very well. "Why can't I live with you?" I asked, frowning slightly, and she laughed humorously.
"Oh my dear Harry, I'd love to have stay with me, but my health is to poor to care for you, and I have no means to get you properly educated. I want you to have your best chances, you deserve that, and going to live in London will provide that." She said, then gave me a warm smile.
"But your are more then welcome to come visit me whenever you please." She assured, kissing my forehead, and I felt a little better.
I still felt a sense of rejection though, and a ball of dread at being thrusted into a new life-style I was far from use to.
For my whole life I had lived in a small house on a big stretch of land, having all the freedom I wanted, while helping my dad clean his pub on weekends, and going to school for a few hours a day. I wasn't even sure if I had ever been to London, let alone did I ever dream I'd live there.
"Okay." I sighed, slipping back into my silent state again as I looked down at the dirt that was staining my shoes, and Grandma Jane sighed as she brushed some curls out of my face.
"It's going to be alright Harry. You'll get through this. Don't let it ruin your future, I'd hate to see you on the streets." She said, then rising to her feet and kissing my head prior to pulling her shawls tighter around her shoulders.
"Come inside if you get to cold, there's refreshments." She said, sounding a bit defeat as she walked back inside, her shoes making a soft crunch on the path way that led back into the building behind.
Once she left I sat back, and let my head tilt back to look up at the grey clouds forming in the sky that would soon bring down a heavy beating of rain, and only make my sorrowful emotions more painful.
Refreshments.
Those mourners had enough stability in their emotional torture to eat as if this was a celebration. This wasn't a celebration.
Sighing softly I let my eyes flutter shut as a drop of rain then hit the tip of my nose.
It always seemed to rain on despondency days.

Notes