Changing Toward Love
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Notes of the Authoress Anthy: Oy, what a weekend. Busy, boring, euphoric, incredibly depressing ... yeah. Well, I hope that everyone likes this chapter. The entire thing is a dialogue between Peter and John (snickers). They foil each other pretty well, which is why I picked John for this role. Do enjoy and loves ... take care.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own the book or the movie(s), but whoever does should be so proud (James M. Barrie, I mean you)! Please, don't sue me. ;_; I am just a poor romantic!
And now the story!
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I have something to ask you, John said in a rigid voice.
Then ask it, Peter replied in an irritated one, vexed that the boys had all been driven away so quickly and easily. He cursed John in his head, hoping that he at least had some kind of good reason for removing all good company from the room.
But then, in the middle of this mild bitterness, he remembered ... John was the only one of the boys who was capable of explaining the reason behind his strange ... problem. He straightened his spine up a bit, still sitting upright in bed, resolving to pay close attention.
stuttered John, as Peter continued to stare at him, waiting. His cheeks began to flush scarlet once again, but his lips remained in a firm line- he was, despite the embarrassing qualities of his question, still very serious about it.
pushed Peter impatiently.
Are you sexually attracted to my sister?, John suddenly spat out loudly, his voice shaky but strong. Peter's eyes widened slightly at this unexpected rise in volume, a bit shocked at his voice- usually aloof and distant, it was now demanding and in his face ... albeit being a bit nervous.
What's sexually attracted'?, he asked with an expression that was both confused and agitated. Come on, John, he muttered in his thoughts. Get to the point already ...
John stuttered, his blush deepening. You ... really don't know?
said Peter bitterly. He disliked it when anyone pointed out his ignorance.
How can you not know and yet get an ... an err, said John shakily. Err ... nothing. Let me ... let me put it this way.
Peter simply raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting.
Who ... who was in your dream?, John asked. He frowned after he said this, his eyes serious and intent on Peter's reaction, his expression.
Peter's eyes widened in surprise, and he cringed as a tsunami of red rushed into his cheeks. He flinched, twitching before shifting his weight uncomfortably in the bed. Finally, after several moments of moving, blushing silence, he spoke.
I, uhh, he said, quite defiantly, Don't ... don't remember! Yes! I don't remember.
suggested John dryly. He frowned, not wanting to play games; Peter's reaction had already confirmed his every suspicion.
choked Peter, annoyed that John hadn't taken the bait. He frowned, searching his mind for a clever lie. Err ... uhm ... oh yes. I ... remember now.
Do you?, John asked carefully.
It was only me, Peter said, filling his voice with shaky confidence. It was ... me ... doing ... well, I don't remember that part, but it was just me. I'm sure of that.
said John in an exasperated voice. So let me just recap here ... in your dream, you were having sex with ... just yourself.
said Peter, relaxing. Finally, John was starting believe him ... maybe now he'd back off about the actual dream and move on to the much more important act of explaining. Yes ... just me, I was having ... wait ...
He frowned, his voice trailing off weakly.
he added meekly, his lie falling apart. What's a
John groaned, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand.
That's what I'm trying to explain to you, he said in an irritated, tired voice. It would go a lot easier if you would just be honest with me ...
Peter frowned at this, weighing his options. On one hand, his dream with Wendy, albeit strange, was beautiful ... beautiful in a way beyond her eyes and smile and waves of auburn hair ... and the closeness within it, the way that he and Wendy had been so ... together, so unseperated ... seemed precious. He wanted to protect it, lock it away forever and never share it with anyone. Especially practical, easily flustered John.
On the other hand, he completely failed to understand the dream, other than the elements of beauty and closeness that needed no explaining, as in feeling them he'd understood them. He was itching with both childish curiosity and worry (after all, he'd somehow ended up broken for awhile) ... he needed to know, and John could explain. He could tell him about everything ... but apparently only if he revealed his secret dream.
said Peter, still unsure. There ... may have been one other person ...
You don't say, said John sarcastically, relieved to finally be dragging him out of his shell. And was this person ... female?
No, she wasn't, said Peter in an agitated, shocked voice, his eyes wide. How did he know that?
Close enough, said John, sighing. And ... what did she look like?
Peter frowned, his mind still grumbling about how John could have possibly known that he had shared his dream with a girl. He would play along, he decided hesitantly ... but he wouldn't say anything that would give her identity away.
She has eyes like the sky on a day when the sun is out, he began slowly. And ... and her hair is long, and it comes in waves so that it flows when she walks, and ... her skin is pale like the full moon and ... ahh ... she was smiling.
John raised an eyebrow at this; Peter had obviously thought of these comparisons before. They were simple, yes ... but beautiful for that reason.
And do you remember, John began slowly, blushing at his own question (how could he talk of his own sister in this fashion?). What this girl was ... wearing?
repeated Peter shakily. He blushed deeply, remembering very well what exactly they'd been wearing. Nothing. Nothing at all ... not so much as a leaf or a nightgown.
He remembered for two reasons, really: one was that the lack of clothes was one of the main reasons the dream was so strange to him, and the second ... no clothes meant he'd been able to feel Wendy's skin, the softest skin that hadn't been battered by too much touch and sun ... he could remember exactly what it felt like, if he thought hard on it ...
His hands wrapped around her back, holding her tightly to his chest ... his palms pressed on her warm skin, skin that was firm but velvet soft, wet with a sheen of sweat ... the curve of her smooth waist, his hands gently placed there at first, then moving up ... her voice moaning into his ear ...
... ahh, oh ... ohh, Peter!
... oh, Peter!
... hey, Peter! Peter!
A hand was suddenly waving wildly in his face, and John's voice was hissing in his ear. Peter jumped and winced, his heart beating wildly at the surprise.
Snap out of it, said John irritably. And answer my question ... what was she wearing?
I, uhm, choked Peter, his blood boiling, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. I ... I don't remember! I don't!
You are a miserable liar, seethed John, narrowing his eyes.
How would you know?, Peter snapped, his cheeks rose red. It wasn't your dream!
I know because the ... t-the proof is right in front of my eyes!, John yelped angrily. He pointed a shaking finger at the bulge just under the blankets over Peter's lap, his cheeks also a burning crimson.
Peter saw the pointing finger and immediately looked down, wincing loudly at what he saw.
Not again, he yelped in a worried voice. It's ... it's ... ehrm, ahh ... why?
I'll tell you why!, John cried madly. Because she wasn't wearing anything was she? Was she?!
I don't know!, Peter yelped, much more focused on his impending doom. Ahh ... John, make it go away! Please! Just ... just tell me how!
It wouldn't be there if hadn't thought of your dream for so long, said John tensely, completely ignoring Peter's panic. The dream in which there was a naked girl. Just admit it ... admit that's what it was!
Peter whined loudly. Fine, fine ... she ... she had no clothes on! Are you happy now?! It's true! She wasn't wearing anything!
Now, was that so hard?, John said tensely, grating his fingers into his scalp.
Peter whimpered, tears about to overflow from his frightened eyes. I just want to make it go away, it makes me feel ... feel ... helpless and ... and crazy! Tell me how to make it go away!
John frowned at this, shocked that Peter was genuinely anxious.
You don't need to look so ... afraid, he said slowly. It's ... perfectly normal, ahh ... really quite ... natural. It'll go away if you don't think about sex for awhile.
What's sex?, Peter cried desperately.
said John nervously. I've ... I've been trying to explain that to you for ten minutes now.
You have not, you've just made me tell you what was in my dream, Peter mumbled indignantly, stilling staring down at himself. Do you think if I push it down, it'll go away faster?
John yelped. Just ... just stop looking at it!
Immediately Peter shot his eyes up toward the ceiling, a tear slipping from the corner of one as he whimpered.
John muttered, half pitying Peter and half amused by his reaction. Don't worry so much. You'll, ahh ... get used to this after awhile.
Meekly, Peter lowered his chin and turned toward John, frowning.
You think so?, he questioned weakly. John nodded firmly, adverting his eyes around the room as he did so.
I guess it's not so bad, Peter commented uneasily. It ... it doesn't hurt or anything.
It shouldn't hurt, John said, chuckling for the first time- Peter's expression of wonderment was priceless. In fact ... it'll, uhm ... err ... no, I shouldn't be telling you that just yet, you haven't even grasped-
Peter interjected suddenly. No! Tell me! You have to tell me, I want ... I want to understand!
John frowned at this, but carefully, he said what he'd been hesitant to say.
he said in a very nervous voice, Err ... that is ... this ... this will ... eventually bring you ... pleasure.
Peter questioned uncertainly.
Yes pleasure, John mumbled, frowning and blushing with embarrassment.
You mean it'll make me happy?, Peter asked unsurely, frowning as well- how could this possibly bring him happiness?
Well, ehrm, yes, John stuttered. But a better way of putting it is .. is, ahh ... physical pleasure. With ... with your body.
I don't understand, Peter frowned, his voice strained with confusion.
John choked. Well ... well, you will. You will ... one of these days.
You're no good at explaining things, Peter said bitterly, frowning at this response.
I would be if I wasn't explaining this to you, John muttered sarcastically, shaking his head slowly.
What's that supposed to mean?, Peter said tensely, narrowing his eyes slightly in annoyance.
John smirked. Hey ... it's gone.
Immediately Peter's eyes shot down to his lap. He sighed with relief, combing his wild hair back with his fingers as he did so.
he said in an exasperated voice. Stupid ... thing.
John raised an eyebrow at this, continuing to smirk. It was very ironic if you thought about it ... right now, he was annoyed by his sexual instinct ... in due time, he knew, Peter would be living by it. Or at least, be inspired by it.
Then, slowly, his smirk fell apart and away. Thinking of Peter embracing his manhood ... it reminded him all too quickly of the entire reason he had agreed to stay and talk with Peter, the one thing he had yet to directly confront Peter with. He sighed to himself; let it be now.
I know that you dreamt of Wendy, he said suddenly, his eyes locking on Peter seriously once again.
Peter's eyes bulged, and he winced in surprise, blood once again rushing his cheeks. His mouth was drained dry, his mind suddenly racing, heart pounding hard- how did he know? How could he have found out? Was ... was it that obvious?
I don't want to play guessing games anymore, John continued, simply frowning at Peter's shocked reaction. I know that it was her in your dream. You can't deny that it wasn't. Not honestly.
Peter frowned. The calm, almost sad look in John's eyes told him he had been defeated. There was no convincing John of anything but the truth.
You're right, he confirmed weakly. It was ... it was her. She wasn't wearing ... and I wasn't ... and we ... but ... I don't understand it, and I didn't meant to dream it, I didn't-
I know, said John in a soothing tone, interrupting Peter. Normally I would punch you for thinking about her that way, but, well ... I have something more important to get across to you.
What's that?, Peter asked, slightly apprehensive.
I just want to tell you, John began, his eyes dark and grave, That if you make some kind of ... move on her, you had better have the purest of intentions. You have the power to hurt her more than any of us, even that godforsaken snake Caleb.
stuttered Peter, his eyes widening at this highly impolite comment. You ... you hate Caleb too?
We would hate anyone who wanted to marry our sister for the wrong reasons, John replied icily. Which is why I have to say this to you. If you make some kind of move on her, you must have the right reasons ... true, pure intentions toward her.
What do you mean, Peter questioned hesitantly, Intentions toward her?
I mean something much deeper than sex, John said, taking a step toward the bed as he spoke. Something far beyond her face and body, behind the submissive mask she wears that some think will make her a good wife. I mean the only reason there is at all to marry ...
I ... I don't understand what you mean, Peter said, frowning.
You ... you do have intentions, don't you?, John asked slowly, frowning himself at the confused, anxious look on his face. Something you plan to do ... in regards to my sister?
I ... I don't know, Peter whispered, hanging his head. In reality, the only real plan he'd had was to leave her to live in peace with a husband ... he cringed at this thought. Why had he assumed that if he came to her window and dumped a pile of kisses in her lap, she would understand what even he didn't?
John protested quietly, Then ... why did you come here?
You know why!, snapped Peter, his eyes now wet and filled with sadness. I ... I got older somehow! I came back because I thought ... that maybe Wendy would be able to help me ... I was ... scared and ...
Everyone grows older, John said simply. It's nothing to be afraid of.
Not me!, Peter cried, his moist emerald eyes flashing. I never grow older!
And yet you did, John said reflectively, staring at Peter's thin yet now broader shoulders, his wider chest, his more defined jaw thoughtfully.
I know that!, Peter snapped bitterly.
Why do you think you grew older?, John asked in a quiet, almost gentle voice, his eyes still locked on him.
I told you, I don't know why, Peter said evasively, frowning. In truth, he had long known why, but for all this time had been too afraid to really look at the truth, rationalize it until he truly understood why.
You must have some idea, John said persistently, standing calmly a few feet from the bed.
said Peter, his frown deepening at John's composed stature, his calm, serious eyes. Why was it so hard to just lie to him?
The ... the ache, he whispered, turning his eyes from John. It was the ache, it hurt me inside and I ... I ...
You think pain made you grow older?, John questioned cautiously. Peter, his eyes adverted, nodded bitterly.
he continued, staring at Peter anxiously, From living for five years ... in her absence?
At this, Peter's head shot up and spun back toward John, his emerald eyes wide once again with surprise.
How did you know that?, Peter asked in a voice that was meant to be irritated, but turning out to be pleading.
It isn't that hard to figure out, John said simply, frowning as his lips tightened downward. Let me tell you something, Peter.
What now?, Peter asked quietly, shying away from his stare.
You will be in a thousand times more pain, John said bitterly, his eyes grave and filled with warning. If you let her go through with this ...
Go through with what?, Peter asked, frowning deeply as his heart began to pound. What could possibly be so much worse than the ache ... the deepest pain he'd ever known?
Don't be so dense, John sighed, raking back his hair hard with his fingers. We've tried talking to her, but she won't listen. She thinks it's the only way she'll ever find happiness, ever have a family of her own to care for ... that and Father has-
But she loves him, Peter interrupted in a desperate voice. That's ... that's why I can't tell her not to have a marriage with him ...
You love her, John said in a firm voice, his eyes locked on him. Don't let her make this mistake.
Peter winced, his eyes widening. He stared at John in a numb state of shock; how could he possibly have known that? He shifted under his steady, waiting gaze, frowning. Maybe in being so aloof John had been able to pick up more than he would've wanted him to know ...
But she loves Caleb, Peter said, sighing sadly. It's not a mistake.
John bristled at this, then sighed. He's spent too much time dreaming of Wendy, he thought to himself, and far too little time actually looking at the real one. He knew that in time, Peter would notice the slow, sad way Wendy went about her daily routines, the distant, fearful look just beneath her false smile.
Unfortunately, there was no time. By the time Peter, innocent and assuming, figured out what was actually going on instead of falling for Wendy's charade, it would be too late for change.
Watch her eyes when she looks at Caleb, John said slowly. Then you'll understand why it's so wrong.
Peter stared back at John, frowning; he didn't understand at all. He nodded anyway, vowing to take his advice, even if he felt fearful about doing so; what if looked into Wendy's eyes when they were on Caleb and saw in them, love? Shining, endless love ... the kind he couldn't ever break?
John sighed inwardly at Peter's reaction, praying internally that he would realize what was going on before it was too late. If only he could see everything in her eyes when she's looking at him, he thought to himself. Then he'd understand the truth.
I will ... do that, said Peter slowly. But ... John?
Ehrm ... yes?, John asked uncertainly.
Before you leave, Peter asked anxiously. You ... you never explained to me what a sex' was, and I think that I ... ought to know, you know, so that I could ... uhm ... just know, I think ...
John winced, raising a perturbed eyebrow. About that. I think that it would perhaps be better if you ... just find out on your own.
Peter frowned bitterly, letting out a sulky sigh.
That's a pathetic explanation, he muttered, adding a few choice curse words onto the end of his sentence.
Right then, said John loudly, choosing to pretend that he hadn't heard this utterance. I have ... many things to ... ehrm ... do now. Do take care, Peter.
He raised a hand in good-bye, and silently, turned completely around and walked to the bedroom door, all the while feeling Peter stare daggers into his back. Relieved, he touched the doorknob; finally, he could leave.
He opened the door slowly, wondering. Find out yourself, his mind repeated. He laughed silently ... maybe, just maybe, if things turned around ... he wouldn't be finding out alone after all.
He smirked, and with that, the door clicked shut.
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End Chapter Fourteen
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Ending Notes: Not much to say. ^^ The next chapter also has some dealings with the sex issue, but after that, expect some plot-advancing action. One of the reasons I wanted to shove in a good chunk of humour right now is because I have planned depression for future chapters. So, if you don't like these sort of chapters, yay! They're almost done. And if you do, I hope you like angst too, because that's what the story is going to be reverting back to. Everyone, have a really nice week ... enjoy your new semesters, those of us still in the educational system!
Please do return for Chapter Fifteen, which ought to be out soon seeing as it's already 2/3 written. ^_^ Thanks for reading!
P.S: If you want to contribute your opinion on the sexuality within CTL, please take the poll located at , the (future) site of this story. Thanks so much!
