0----0
The flying boy looks at you in a passing, you're not his target, and thus of no importance, and you call out hesitantly. "W-who are you?" And it's weaker than you've ever sounded before, but somehow weak isn't much of a problem when you're shivering on the deck of a pirate ship.
He took a little leap back towards you, and looks you in the eyes this time. "The name's Peter Pan."
"I'm Riku."
You don't know why it's important, but just maybe you can try making friends again, since last time...well, you're still screwing with last time's friendship. And you're asking him questions that he answers, distracted, about his home.
"Have you seen a girl named Wendy around here?"
"No."
"Oh. Well, I gotta go then." He zips off without another word; again, you're not his target, you're not his problem.
Once upon a time, there was a place where a boy could never, ever, ever grow up. Your hand raises mechanically to your heart, and
(if you hadn't grown up you'd still be a boy with sandcastles and sunshine and grains in your hair and salt up your nose pivoting around a boy and a girl, one with shoes he begged for, "I'll grow into 'em, Mom!" and the other with shells on her shelves, "I know there are hundreds of them...but you guys helped find these...so they're more memories, really" and you could bask in the sunset and feel the salt air waft your hair and with a smile and the ease of friendship you could)
you resist the urge to sob. Or wretch. Or maybe something in-between.
0-FIN-0
For the prompt time over at LJ. I immediantly thought of this. Gah, I'm strangely excited by it.
My foot itches!!!! Stupid cast...