He could remember it.
Every tone, every drop of music floating in the air as Pan ran his fingers on his magical flute. He remembered the song he played, he remembered getting out of his bed, forgetting about everything around but the music, he could still feel it resounding into his chest, into every single bone of his body. He remembered arriving here, in Neverland, holding Pan's hand tight - there were only a few of them but he was already the elder of the boys. He remembered Pan's eyes, his smile, when he played again, and he remembered how his body started to move. He remembered the euphoria running through his veins, his breath leaving his body as he danced aroud the fire. He remembered the shadows dancing too ; he remembered watching Pan the whole time. The look on his face, this expression of pure happiness that had never felt. He remembered the exact moment he decided to stay with Pan forever.
What he also remembered were all those nights he spent watching the stars, knowing Pan wasn't here - and all around at the same time. He was the island, he was always with him, with all of them. Protecting them. Protecting him. And he already knew, at that time, that as long as Pan would be there, he would never be alone anymore. And he already knew that his feelings should always remain silent.
He remembered that night, when he came back from the hunt and saw all the lost boys dancing around the fire ; he could still hear the music by seeing their movements, these movements he had done so many times. But his ears were deaf. The tune couldn't reach him anymore, and he couldn't understand why he was excluded of his family - once again. And he could remember the fear that took control of his body. He couldn't be sent back to the old world. He coulnd't leave the Lost Boys, his family. He couldn't leave Pan...
He remembered that decision of never saying it to Pan. He would never confess that he couldn't hear the music anymore. Of course Pan had understood. But none of them ever mentioned it - maybe Pan didn't want to have to send him away after all. So he just sat there, watching the Lost Boys dancing and laughing, a mysterious smile on his lips.
He could remember Pan's lips, oh so well. He could remember anything that he had learned about him during his entire life. He knew he was his favorite Lost Boy, and yet he was still afraid of being sent back. He would have spent his life with Pan if he was given the choice.
He remembered all of these moments in a split second, his heart leaping into his chest as, next to that well, Pan admit that he was the person he loved the most.
He remembered all of these moments when he understood what Pan was up to.
He remembered all of them and the fear burnt himself as Pan buried his hand into his chest. He couldn't go. Pan couldn't kill him, not now ! Not before he could -
Pan ripped his heart out. And as he started crushing it in his hand, only he could see the sparkle of pain and despair that lightened the eyes of his lifelong companion. And he finally did what he should have done way much before.
-It's alright Peter. I forgive you, I always did.
The words slipped out of his mouth as his body collapsed, and the fear on his face was only fear that Pan hadn't heard him.
He died smiling, the dust of his heart falling down into the well, and he closed his eyes watching the stars.
He would have liked to know that a few hours later, when Rumpelstiltskin stabbed him in the back, Pan's last thought flew to him, as he regretted killing him - because it wasn't worth it. Because nothing was worth him.