A/N: Another ode to King Jas.! :) Thanks for reading!

I first fell in love
two days before my 13th birthday;
he was my Lost Boy,
and I his Lost Girl –
though he refused my title,
for I was too clever,
he said,
to be anything but Found.
He would race ahead of me,
winding through an impossible forest –
green,
the color of his eyes.
He taught me to fly.
Never once did he reach back
for my hand.

One day,
I could no longer keep up.
I called his name again
and again,
pleading that he stop –
wait –
but I lost him to the clouds.
I guess he couldn't hear me
or, maybe
he just didn't care.
Either way, I was Lost.
I was alone
in the growing darkness of an island
that was no longer home.

Then through the shadows,
two glowing eyes –
blue,
the color of forget-me-nots.
They stared back at me
from between the trees.
His single, pale hand grabbed mine,
pulled me to my feet –
a maddening grin and
a gentleman's bow –
and an unexpected smile
replaced the tears in my eyes.

Suddenly,
I, too, longed for Collegers
driven to madness –
a guillotine glittering
in the early light
of London.
I wanted to scream
above the boards of the Wall Game,
to laugh along with him
when the Oppidians were victorious –
when he was victorious.

But all stories end.
I was Found on my bench,
pages clutched between my hands,
no Eton blues left to warm me.
I had grown.
I vowed right then –
the next time my Lost Boy chanted
Old! Alone! Done for!
I would not cheer.
Instead,
I would echo the cry of
Brother! Pirate! King!
for I was Hooked.