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

After I had processed the words carved neatly into the wardrobe I decided to spilt, because I began to feel uneasy.
Of course though it took me a good twenty minutes to climb out of the bottom floor I had fallen into, and by the time I got out the sun was begining to set.
For a little bit, as I climbed over the debris carefully, getting lost a few times, I had considered running, and, hiding because I knew I was going to get in trouble for completely trashing my uniform, and, getting my shoes dirty.
I was terrified to get whipped if Corrin had been serious, and even if he wasn't he would definately be now no matter how many times I told my tale. Yet if I were to hide I have no idea where to go, because I only knew my way selectively around.
It had taken me nearly an hour to get completely out of the blasted destruction zone, and by the time I did I was panting from the effort it took to find my way out of the maze of ghost houses. I then had to find my way home in the dim light the sinking sun provided.
I was sure by now at least Rosie must be worried sick, yet I couldn't help but hope Fay and Corrin were to. I highly doubted it though.
After crawling my way through the dimly lit streets, sidewalks, and the occasional alley way I finally saw the faint outline of my house in the distance, and nearly leaped for joy even though I knew I was going to be in some sort of serious trouble.
Luckily though fate seemed to be on my side, because Fay and Corrin weren't aware I wasn't home, because they were out at dinner while Rosie managed the house.
I was right about Rosie being worried sick though, she had a complete fit when I walked through the door, and it only got worse when I told her what had happened. Of course though I was careful to exclude specific details.
Once I had told her my tale she sent me upstairs to take a bath, and that is when I got to the see the full depth of my appearance.
I was completely covered in white plaster from pretty much head to toe; my shoes were scruffed up in ever which way; I had a series of bruises on my arms, legs, and a scratch across my cheek that was indeed bleeding.
Also my uniform was torn in selective places making me look like I crawled out of a zombie movie of some kind. Shaking my head at my distraut attire I stripped out of my ruined uniform, and slipped into the bath.
I was only bothered once when Rosie stepped in to grab my uniform, and shoes in hope of fixing them, which I highly doubted was possible. After I had soaked in the bath long enough to return to my normal color, and get the plaster out of my hair I wash off then got out.
By the time I was pulling on my nightshirt, a bit of an old fashioned thing, Fay and Corrin had come home from dinner and were bickering so I decided to stay in my room to do my homework in the faint light of my lamp.
Now, present time as always I was fixing the collar of my second uniform as I walked home from school. Today had consisted of all the boys who tried to beat me up, avoiding me like the plague.
I do believe it would've been just to tell on them, but both me and Rosie agreed it wasn't worth the trouble considering all of their parents were powerful people, and might turn the whole bloody thing into a dramatic court case we didn't need.
The redhead hadn't talked to me again, instead she was ignoring me now like everyone else which made me wonder if she had ever had interest in being friends in the first place.
When we had talked she made herself sound like an outsider who had no friends, but now I knew for sure she had plenty, and was probably just trying to get confirmation I was Fay and Corrin's kid.
There were perks to Nathan, and his friends avoiding me though, and those perks were I knew there would be no more trouble between us, because I had something to black mail them with.
I couldn't help but then let my mind drift back to the Wardrobe with Wendy's name on it though, just the thought of it gave me goosebumps. There was a good chance it may have been a concidence, but something told me in my gut it was far from it.
If there really was a Wendy then maybe that meant there really was a Neverland, or perhaps she was the inspiration for the character, and was good friends with the author? There were so many possibilites in refrence to what I found it made my head spin.
I did decide not to tell anyone though, not even Rosie, because I didn't want people to start thinking I was losing my marbles, or making up stories to get attention. I couldn't help, but wonder what was in that wardrobe though.
I highly doubted it was something as valuable as treasure, but I did believe it could be something worth tearing the thing apart for. Quite a few times in the past twenty-four hours I had seriously considered going back, but I was scared to go down into that room again.
Let alone I didn't know how to bust a locked wardrobe open, nor did I know how I was going to get back into that room.
It was tempting though.
I then had to erase my thoughts as I approached the house, because Rosie was stepping out of the front door with a basket of food, and what seemed to be old clothes.
"Hullo Harry! Did you have a good second day?" She asked, waving at me, and I offered a thin smile.
Rosie had been one hundered percent me going back to school, but we both knew one of us would get it if we argued with Corrin or Fay, and I had assured her that I doubted the boys would mess with me again.
"Better then the first, I'll tell you that much." I said honestly, and she nodded as she rested the basket on her hip.
"I'm going down to the homeless shelter to give them these old clothes, and left over food. Want to come?" She asked, and I nodded since I did want to ask Rosie more question's about the whole legend circulating Wendy, and her whole family perishing in the bombing of their home.
"Sure, I don't have much homework tonight." I informed, stopping at the end of the path so Rosie could walk over to me, and then we both made ways back towards the town. "So learn anything interesting in school?" She asked, and I shrugged.
''Not really." I said, finding my mind blank at the moment on what we learned. I wasn't exactly paying one hundred percent attention today, and because of that I got my hand smacked with a ruler.
Not a pleasent experiance.
"You kids now adays, not appreciating culture.'' She chuckled, seeming amused at my answer, and I then decided to wedge my way into the conversation I wanted to have.
"So do you believe the legend, or rumor thing about Wendy dying in the bombing in at the destruction sight?" I asked, causually, and Rosie gave me a curious look.
"I thought you said it was a terrible tale to make up about a children's character?" She inquired, and I shrugged. "It is, but I am curious about it." I said honestly, and she nodded before sighing.
"Well sonny I'm not sure how much of it is true, but I do know they started when a Wendy Darling was discovered on the death toll. I'm not sure if her whole family died to, or if she was the actual thing, but I do know it made alot of people question the old tale." She said, and I nodded intently, but I felt like that information wasn't what I was looking for.
"If there really was a Wendy Darling, then do you think there was a Peter Pan?" I asked, and she shook her head.
"Probably not, the author may have used her as inspiration for the character, or the Peter Pan story might've been her own, and he decided to write about it. Such things as Neverland, and faires don't exist." She said, and I felt a tiny bit of disappointment.
I mean, in a way I knew it was practically impossible for it all to be true, but after finding that wardrobe I couldn't help, but wonder. "What if they did though?" I asked, and she shook her head.
"If they did I highly doubt they would still be there." She said, making me bite my lip harshly as I fiddled with the straps of my backpack. I do wish I dropped this off before walking, because the bag was so heavy it was making me break a sweat in the cold October air.
"Why do you doubt it?" I asked, and she gave me a wary glance.
"Anything can happen in fourty years, it's been a long time since the story was written, and if it's true at all I wouldn't be surprised if everyone involved was deceased." She said, the both of then going quiet for a moment to cross the street before I answered.
"I doubt it, but your right it's probably not real." I concluded, knowing deep down there was no way it was all real, I would just have to except the fact it was a concidence. That didn't mean it was going to stop me from going back though, I knew for sure I was going to.
I needed to see what was in that wardrobe, and why it was so importent to keep it locked. Perhaps there was some kind of secret in there that could make me rich! The thought made me unbearably excited at the concept of tearing the old thing open.
For the rest of the walk me, and Rosie remained quiet because we needed to concentrate on crossing the busy roads, and weaving our ways around the sidewalk. When we got to the homeless shelter I helped her hand out the food, and the clothes until the basket was empty.
I even gave a few of the small children some of my colored pencils, and notebook to draw in to ease their imagination. A word didn't pass between me, and Rosie until we had crossed the busiest side of the road.
"So have you finished that fairy tale book I gave you yet?" She inquired, letting the empty basket rest on her arm as I nodded. "I have a couple of stories left, thank you so much for giving it to me, I love the destraction." I say, feeling truely grateful for it.
Everynight, and most mornings before school I would busy myself with reading the addicting stories. I was especially fond of the princess one's where they were saved from evil by the prince, I wasn't sure why though.
"That's good, it seems like I'll have to get you another book soon." She chuckled, seeming amuse at the excitement in my answer. "That would be awesome." I confirmed, finding the thought of reading another book of wild stories thrilling.
Fairy tales in my opinion were the greatest stories, because they came purely from imagination, and taught life lesson's that could be useful in the future.
''I'm glad you think so. Stories are a great escape as you once said." Rosie reminded, making me smile shyly as I looked down at my shoes.
Last night Rosie had taken the liberty of bringing them to the store, and exchanging them for new one's, and put them away before Corrin could look at them meaning I was spared from getting in trouble.
"Writing them is fun to, but lately my mind seems to be blank when I pick up the pen. I feel as if I have nothing spetacular to write about, nothing extrodinarry has happened to me." I admitted, feeling the ache for my family.
Loosing my entire family to a train crash was the only unordinary thing that had happened to me, and I would give anything to change it. To at least have one of them hear sharing in my grief.
Immediately though I brushed off those thoughts, because I didn't want to slip into a depressive state.
"I'm sure something will, a boy like you is bound to have something extrodinarry happen to him." Rosie assured as we both walked up the driveway of the house, but before I could respond Corrin stuck his head out the door.
"There you are, boy I need you to come help me with something." He said, gesturing for me to hurry up, and I shared a glance with Rosie before I walked ahead of her to get to Corrin quickly. Immediately upon coming up to him I could smell the nauseating smell of alcohal on his breath.
"What do you need help with?" I asked, but was responded to by getting my shirt grabbed as he dragged me into the house.
"I need you to climb into the attic, and get me my cork screw cause I broke my bloody other one." He informed, keeping a tight grip on me which forced me to walk at his pace.
''Yes sir." I said obediantly, looking down at my feet to avoid eye contact.
"Well look who is acting like a polite lad." He chuckled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand as he led me up the stairs, before stopping me under the attic door.
"The cork screw is right there near the entrance. Get it quick, and don't go sticking your nose somewhere you shouldn't." He said in a gruff manner as he released my shirt, then pulled on the string to open the attic.
Instantly the stairs came rolling down, and hit the ground with a soft thud. Upon looking up into the entrance I could tell it was dark, and fairly dusty.
Might've even had rats.
"Go on." He said, gesturing for me to go up, and I swallowed thickly as I slipped off my shoes, and back pack, then began to climb the creaking stairs.
While I climbed up Corrin watched me with a bored expression, continously messing with his imaginary hair, or fixing his shirt that look fine. I was right about the attic being dusty, but there was a window up there that provided light so it wasn't to bad.
Everywhere there was old furniture, boxes of various items, bags of various items, and so on. Biting my lip softly I began to move around the furniture, and boxes near the entrance where he said the cork screw was.
If I knew I wasn't going to get it trouble I probably would've explored a bit, because there seemed to be alot of interesting stuff in here that caught my interest. Yet I was afraid of his threat to whip me so I decided to just do as I was told.
With in a couple of minutes I found the cork screw resting on a rotting end table that had a bag of tools in front of it, and out of the bag of tools a crow bar, and a bunch of screws were sticking out.
Being careful not to step on any of it, I reached over, and grabbed the cork screw with a sigh.
"Well boy?" Corrin called up, sounding impatient, and I faught my tempation to say something rude.
"I found it, I'm coming down!'' I called out, glancing at the tools one last time before walking away, and back down the stairs to give impatient Corrin his cork screw.
Once he had taken it from my hand with out the simplest thank you, he closed the attic, and walked away leaving me standing there in the hall.
Shaking my head at his rude personality, I grabbed my shoes, and back pack then made my way down to my room.
I then, decided I was going to go back to the destruction sight, because here I had nothing, but there I might find something.

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