I'm back!
I've been gone a long time due to school and stuff but in the meantime I've become quite obsessed with Once upon a time! Especially with Peter Pan and Rumpelstiltskin.
Knowing myself, it didn't take long for me to write a sad, angsty story about one of them - Peter Pan!
Anyway, I don't want to to bore you with my monologue, so I'm just going to stop now, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or the characters. Please also note that English isn't my first language, so there might be a few mistakes - forgive me!
Dealing with Doubt
Peter Pan stood hidden behind the trees, watching the lost boys dance and jump around the fire as a daily ritual – his lost boys.
Oh yes, they were in fact his. He was the one who took them from their home; he was the one who gave them everything, who gave those poor forgotten souls a new home. A home, where they met others who were just like them. They should appreciate him more for everything he's given them, but they don't. Of course, none of them really expresses the want to go back but neither do they really show their love for his generosity.
Thinking about that, Pan realised that neither one of them has ever said that they wanted to be here with him. Of course, he knew that that must naturally be the truth. They were the lost boys after all, weren't they? Why would they not like it here? But none of them has ever said it.
Watching them from afar, he had a chance to study their face.
Half-closed eyes, looking up at the sky, being carried away by the hypnotic melody of the pipe. But if he really, really looked, he saw the expressionless faces, the dried tears on their cheeks and the hard features of their faces.
He didn't saw happiness – he saw despair.
But that didn't matter. Not to him. He only ever cared about himself, and as long as his boys did what he wanted, he was satisfied.
He never did care about the feelings of others, they were just his puppets. Just boys to keep him company and give him a sense of authority – to make him feel like leader he'd always wanted to be.
Slowly, Pan crouched down and crossed his arms over his knees. He continued watching the boys for a very long time and only stopped when he suddenly felt wetness on his cheeks. Confused, he wiped over it with his fingers and looked down – tears.
Actual tears were coming from his eyes – Peter Pan was crying. Over absolutely nothing! Angrily he wiped his cheeks dry and stood up. Somehow he didn't feel like watching his lost boys anymore. He began walking through the forest and continued on walking until the early morning when he had to stop because his feet felt sore and his body was too tired to go further.
What was he doing? He didn't even know himself anymore. His boys would surely be asking questions about where he'd been for so long. Of course, he could easily order them stop asking but that would change the fact that they would doubt him. Questioning his loyalty and truthfulness. Questioning his quality as a leader and ultimately questioning him.
He couldn't have that. He had to make sure nobody, absolutely nobody, not even himself would doubt him.
After all, he was Peter Pan, and Peter Pan never failed; let alone be distracted by some childish, ridiculous fears.
Suddenly he pressed his hands to his temples and screamed. He screamed until his lungs felt sore and his voice went away and as he collapsed on his knees, quiet desperate sobs escaped his mouth and he hated himself for it.
He wasn't alone. And even if he was, why would he care? He chose this life; he chose to be the person he was now. Why would he care now? What was different now?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't like it. He didn't want it. He didn't want to feel ordinary, to have those fears nagging at him like at every other boy. He had to make it stop. He needed it to stop! Those small voices in his head; mocking him, laughing at him.
He needed the doubt and loneliness to be gone!
He couldn't be ordinary; couldn't be weak. He was Peter Pan, the king of Neverland, for god's sake!
It was all wrong, so wrong! Everything was going wrong, wrong wrong! He should be out there now, planning how to get that boy, Henry, to help him survive. He should be giving orders to his lost boys; he should just do what he's always done!
Why was it that now, after all this time, the thoughts and doubts began to creep into his mind? He never even spent a single thought to the cruel things he did or the lives he may be ruining. He never cared. Why now?
"Pan?" he suddenly heard a voice not far from him.
Lightning-quick, he got to his feet and turned around, fear visible in his eyes. It was Felix.
"Pan? What's wrong?" Felix asked as he began to come closer. Confusion was written all over his face and Peter did his best to cover up his feelings; to act the way he's always done.
Why was it so damn hard right now?!
"It's nothing, Felix. Why are you here?" At least his voice emanated his usual self-confidence and smugness.
"Oh, uh, nothing, it's just…, I heard…-nothing." Felix' face went back to his unreadable expression, replacing the prior confusion.
"Well, then, what are you still doing here?! Go! There's a game to be played and I will not be the one to lose it! So just do your job and get. the. boy!" Peter shouted at him.
After a short nod, Felix turned around and disappeared into the forest.
Pan just stood there, his arms hanging loose beside his body and looked after him for a while. With every passing second it became clearer to him that he really hated himself.
He truly and utterly despised himself.
He hated the fear he always saw in the faces of his boys when they looked at him; he hated the loneliness he constantly felt and he hated the way people always treated him.
But he chose this life! He's made his choices and now he has to live with them, no matter what. There was no turning back now.
Another wave of anger shook his body and he just needed to hit something. He clenched his fist until his nails dug into his skin and left bloody marks on it. Suddenly he whirled around and beat the three behind him so hard, the wood splintered and fell down beside him.
Panting, he looked down at his bloody dirty hand and let out another small scream.
Enough of this! With a flick of his finger, his injured hand was healed again with no reminders of what has happened just a few seconds ago. Now only his mind bore the traces of his breakdown but soon they would be gone too.
After all, he was Peter Pan and Peter Pan never lost. Not even to himself.
He's never failed before and he was certainly not about to break that string now.
I would be SO happy if you'd leave a review to tell me if you liked it!:)