“Here you go.” A lost boy said, handing you your share of dinner while sitting down on the log beside you. You stopped sharpening your own weapon and smiled.
“Thanks!” You grabbed the food, setting it on your lap and making room for your friend. Since you’d gotten to Neverland, not many of the boys liked you. You tried to fit in, but the fact that you were a girl made you stick out like a sore thumb. The only person who took a special liking to you was Peter Pan himself, and this lost boy who had become quite like your closest friend. You knew the only reason Pan was interested in you was because of your story, and the fact that you were the first lost girl to ever stay in Neverland.
Pan walked out of his tent, and you watched him as he glowed with a superior presence. Your stomach tingled slightly, and you cursed yourself as you wished it would stop. Something about him made you feel like a love struck idiot. Something about him made you want to pull him back into that tent and kiss him hungrily. Thankfully, your friend interrupted your thoughts.
“Your stick is looking pretty good.” He said, eyeing your work.
You snapped your eyes away from Pan, who had begun smirking at you. You looked down and nodded, a mouth full of food. “Yeah! Can’t wait to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”
“When it is, we can go out and try it!” He said, excitedly.
“Yeah,” You said, “I just wish I knew how to use it.”
You looked back up, finding Pan with the corner of your eye. He was now sitting down, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you both intently. Something, an emotion, was flashing through his eyes and you couldn’t figure it out. But he was staring, as if trying to pierce right through the both of you talking.
“Well, Y/N, if you want I can show you how to fight.” You turned your head back to the lost boy who was still talking to you.
“Really?” You asked, hopeful, smiling. “That would be great!”
You heard Pan scoff, and suddenly stand up. You frowned, wondering why he was acting this way as the lost boy beside you suddenly shrunk in his seat. Everyone stayed still, wondering what had upset Pan.
He walked over to you, standing in front of you. “You,” He said, eyeing the boy beside you, “You want to show her how to fight?”
The lost boy cleared his throat nervously, “Well…I just thought it would be helpful-“
“Helpful? You really think you’ll be helpful?” Pan said, letting out a laugh and then looking serious and condescending all at once, “Please.”
The lost boy stood up, knowing he should probably walk away to avoid some kind of punishment. You rolled your eyes at Pan’s behaviour and stood up with him. The lost boy walked away, disappearing through the branches before anyone else could attack his dignity or his gesture.
Pan smirked again, and looked over to you. His smirk disappeared as soon as he saw your face, which was full of disbelief and annoyance. Pan signalled for the other lost boys to disappear as well, and leave you two alone.
“What?” Pan asked, “He won’t be able to show you anything worth your time.”
You rolled your eyes, “He’s just being kind to me.”
Peter scoffed, “Yeah, well it’s kind of pathetic.”
“You mean as pathetic as you are?” You challenged, now being the one who smirked.
“Excuse me?” He said, trying to act angry even though he knew what was about to come out of your mouth.
“You were jealous.” You said, crossing your arms, “Weren’t you?”
Peter’s eyes tried to show confusion, but only revealed he was lying. “No!”
“Yes, you were.” You said, “I just don’t know why.”
He walked over to you, “You’re special, Y/N.”
“So?” You asked, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he approached you.
“I don’t want anyone else getting this close to you.” He said, in a deep whisper.
“You don’t?” You asked, unable to say anything coherent due to the closeness.
His eyes were now burning into yours, and he let them scan your entire face causing your cheeks to flush. You felt your heart stammer through your chest as his hand grazed your cheek and put a strand of hair between your ear and approached his lips to your ear, “I want you all to myself.”
You looked up into his eyes in a second, not sure to have heard him correctly. “You do?” you asked, in the same soft voice, watching him, not wanting him to move at all.
He smirked, “You ask a lot of questions when you’re nervous.” He moved away from you, keeping the smirk.
“I’m not nervous,” You said, your voice contradicting you.
He let out a laugh, and grabbed two swords on the ground that the lost boys had left when he asked them to leave. He handed one to you and kept one for himself.
“What are you doing?” You asked, still in a daze. You felt your stomach tingle again, craving the heat of his body close to yours once more.
“Showing you how to fight.” He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You smiled eagerly, and he smiled, a soft smile reflecting yours identically.
El mundo exige abandonar los juegos y “progresar”. Y los que se quedan jugando reciben desprecio y burla por eso hay quienes que han resuelto seguir jugando en secreto.
Hay personas que sin que nadie lo sepa recorren las calles y juegan. No pisan las baldosas azules para no matar ángeles, y si las rojas para matar demonios, o juegan a que morirán si se cruzan con una rubia en la siguiente cuadra, o gritan en los zaguanes, o pisan las hojas secas para deleitarse con el crujidos pero no nos engañemos, estamos hablando de otra cosa, no de mera afición lúdica.
Se trata de seguir en secreto profesando una moral heroica, de seguir creyendo, de creer no con la estupidez de los mamertos, sino con la locura de los que jamás podrán aprender a acomodarse en un universo burgués de mezquindad, de seguros contra robos y de electrodomésticos como parámetros de dicha. James Barrie no quería crecer en el peor de los sentidos, no quería esa mediocre resignación que algunos llaman “madurez”.
Nosotros en este programa hemos resuelto seguir jugando en secreto. Jugamos a que un buen verso salva una vida, jugamos a que el amor es más importante que la prosperidad, jugamos a pensar, a enloquecernos con un acorde. Jugamos a creer que lo mejor de la vida todavía no sucedió.
Claro que allí están las personas razonables que nos desprecian y nos dicen Peter Pan y se ríen de nuestros juegos y de nuestros sueños. Para ellos es todo el mundo: el mundo de los adultos y de los burgueses, el mundo de la televisión, el mundo de los concursos o el del rating tampoco es el mundo de los juegos porque los juegos, el sueño secreto de la juventud, es cosa de gente seria.
Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never afterwards be quite the same boy.