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Henry had been having problems all day.
Sighing, he ran his fingers lightly over the side of the sword he had created earlier, still feeling the bout of magic that had washed over him when he had conjured it. It felt like electricity running through his veins as he believed the stick to be so much more, Peter’s fingers brushing under his elbows as he directed him, his breath tickling his ear. He could still feel the ghost of Peter’s warmth surrounding him as he leaned against his back…
Shaking his head, Henry tried to push the thoughts away. They had been consuming his mind since it had happened, but it wasn’t them that were bothering him. If anything, they were just distracting him from the true problem he had. It was the fact that he had sliced Devin’s face and felt no guilt. He could still feel the impact vibrating through his hands when the metal was cutting more than just air, swiping across the Lost Boy’s cheek and tearing his skin, yet he felt a rush of adrenaline instead of the blame that he should be dealing with. He had only felt remorse for a mere second before being directed away from it – Lost Boys don’t apologize Peter had said, but was he truly a Lost Boy?
Groaning in frustration, Henry swung at the forest floor from his spot on the log, a billow of dirt rising before him. His mind was strayed from his confusing thoughts when he heard snickering behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Devin approaching, distaste on his face.
“Look, I really don’t want any trouble.” Henry began, tiredly sighing. He had enough on his mind without having to deal with Devin too. The Lost Boy was sporting a cut that stretched across his cheek and dirt caked his clothing, his hair a straight mess.
“Well you should’ve thought about that before slicing me up and humiliating me in front of everyone.” He responded, glaring at the younger boy, the rest of the Lost Boys scattered around the camp and paying them no mind.
Exhaling heavily, Henry glanced up at him from below, “What do you even want?” He questioned, his fist clenching around the base of his sword as his other hand dug into the bark beneath him. It would be so simple to just swing upwards and knock Devin away, but he knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that. It was a dark path his thoughts were leading him to.
“A rematch.” Devin said simply, slowly taking a stick from the forest floor and shaking the dirt from it, “Only this time, I get the sword and you get the stick.” He said pointedly, pushing the wood towards Henry, “And no cheating with magic this time.” He scorned.
Narrowing his eyes at the stick, Henry batted it away with his empty hand, “I didn’t cheat.” He spoke with an edge to his voice, “Plus I didn’t even want to fight in the first place. What makes you think I want to now?” He sneered, glaring at him.
Face tangling with fury, Devin began, “You made me look a fool.” He spat viciously, his nostrils flaring, “I’ve been here for years yet just because you’re the biggest believer you were able to use magic to win.” He growled, more to himself than to Henry.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Henry lied, rolling his eyes in exasperation, “Will you just leave me alone now?” He huffed.
“You’re not sorry.” Devin scoffed, his voice heightening in pitch, “Not yet anyways.” He slyly grinned.
With a narrowed look, Henry opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by Devin swinging at him. Eyes widening, Henry yanked his body back to avoid the attack, but wasn’t quick enough. A sharp point dug across his neck, slicing into the skin stretching over his collar bone before Henry was able to pull back fully, falling off the log he was sitting on and landing on the bare floor.
Hand flying up to his neck, Henry looked up at Devin in shock, the Lost Boy grinning down at him. Henry’s eyes dropped to the other boy’s hand and he gasped when he realized that Devin was clutching an arrow, the tip of it dirty from the red liquid currently escaping the younger boy’s body. Pulling his own hand back, Henry stared in horror at the black liquid that mixed with his blood, thickly coating his fingers.
“Dreamshade…” Henry muttered, unable to take his eyes off the dark substance swirling with his ruby red. He felt the poison beginning to take him over, infecting his body as a sharp pain entered his throat.
“You should’ve accepted my rematch.” Devin growled, pointing the arrow threateningly at Henry before turning on his heel, “The Island will be better off without you.” He spoke dryly over his shoulder before disappearing into the trees, tossing the arrow to the side.
Henry could feel the poison beginning to stretch, slowly expanding within him. He didn’t know much about dreamshade, but he did know enough to understand that he had only a few hours to live since the arrow hadn’t pierced a direct vein. He had time to fret over his death.
Tears flooded his eyes, but Henry blinked them away. He knew he shouldn’t cry that it’d just be pointless. His tears wouldn’t solve anything.
He knew one thing for sure. He only had a few hours of life left and he wanted to spend it with someone he loved…
A face entered his mind when he thought that, one that took him by surprise. It was the face of Peter Pan, his short, wavy hair a mess around his head and his bright eyes ringed with his dark eyelashes. He was smiling broadly, his lips upturned and his teeth exposed. His expression was of one that Henry had only seen on him a few times, but when he did, it caused warmth to bloom within him.
Henry found himself grinning softly too now, ignoring the pain he felt. He didn’t know when the hate he felt for his captor had turned to love, but he realized that he had stepped over that fine line and there was no going back. He was dying yet he still preferred to spend his final hours with the boy who had dragged him to this horred island instead of his family.
Guilt began to grow inside him as he realized this. His family loved him, they truly did, but the more time he spent away from them, the more he realized how unwanted he felt. His biological mother gave him up and had to be practically forced by him to come back into his life, and it was all for some stupid curse, and his other mother acted as if he was a possession instead of a human being most of the time. Despite being separated from them by Pan, he had learned to love and trust the demented boy.
He knew that he couldn’t see Peter as he was though. Blood leaked down from his neck, pooling in the dips of his collar bone and splashed the front of his chest. Despite not knowing how Peter felt about him, Henry did know that he was still the biggest believer and Pan expected him to be the savior of magic. He was worried that he’d be angry when he discovered he was dying and he didn’t want his final hours to be in spite.
Pushing himself to his feet, Henry gathered his coat and scarf, leaving his sword behind as he ducked into the trees and to the nearest stream. The Lost Boys were scattered around the camp, not paying him much attention, and his confrontation with Devin had gone unnoticed. He only hoped that this act would go unnoticed too.
Finding a small river pulsing above the ground, Henry dipped his hands into the water and brought it to his neck, washing away the blood and staining the water red. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy from the pain, but he tried to ignore it. He didn’t want to be completely miserable when he died.
Once finished, Henry pulled on his coat and tied his scarf around his neck to hide the injury. Once the water stilled he observed his reflection, grimacing slightly at how pale he looked. Other than that, he looked fine.
Standing up, Henry turned to go back to the camp but jumped when he found Peter behind him, casually leaning against a tree, he only hoped he didn’t know about the cut, “You’re a bit far from the camp.” He observed, his eyes trailing across Henry’s body, causing the younger boy to blush. Noting this, Peter smirked.
Shivering slightly from the stare, Henry simply shrugged, “So are you.” He bantered back.
Peter’s smirk only widened before he nodded back towards the direction of the camp, the two of them starting to walk there.
For a moment, the only sounds were of the crunching of dead leaves beneath their feet and the shouts of the Lost Boys in the distance, but Peter eventually broke it, “You did well today.” He said proudly, looking over at Henry again with mirth in his eyes, “With a bit of practice, you’ll be even better.” A sly smile found its way on his lips again.
Quirking an eyebrow, Henry questioned, “What? Is that your way of offering to train me?” He teased, his lips upturning in a boyish smile.
Raising both of his eyebrows, his lips parted to expose his teeth, “Maybe I am.” He said, chuckling before stopping them. Bending down and gathering two sticks, Henry’s eyes couldn’t help but follow him. Now that he realized how he truly felt, Henry was addicted. He couldn’t stop getting enough of Peter, even if it was just a glance.
Straightening, Peter placed the two branches in Henry’s hands, his fingers brushing against his wrists.
“Why don’t you do it again?” Peter suggested, his voice quiet and his eyes inviting.
Holding his intense stare for a moment, Henry nodded and shut his eyes. Concentrating in his belief, he felt everything else fade away as he imagined that he was holding swords instead of wood, a rush running through his veins before the weight in his hands increased. Peeling back his eyelids, Henry saw two swords in his grasp.
Grinning, he glanced at Peter’s smirking face, his own still filled with awe. Although it was his second time doing that, he was still amazed.
Holding one of the swords to Peter, the older teen took it before swinging at him, not too fast and allowing Henry plenty of time to block. Henry laughed before going on the offense, his sway more sluggish and messy than Peter. The two swung back and forth, their swords colliding as they picked up the pace, Peter only stopping every so often to teach a new technique to Henry. Whenever he did so, Henry couldn’t help but blush as Peter’s hands guided him.
Although Henry could feel the pain continuing to spread, he could also feel his heart warm up. Peter was gentle with him, but at the same time, he didn’t hold back, not like his family did. His family treated him like a fragile child, a victim, and not like the strong boy he wanted so desperately to be.
As his breath quickened, Henry realized that he was straining himself and that it was causing the poison to move faster. The pain was more vibrant now, encasing his throat and making it hard to take in oxygen. It was beginning to reach his heart, and the hurt washed over him suddenly like a wave.
Sword slipping from his grasp, it clattered to the ground as Henry collapsed against a tee, trying to hold himself up. His vision blurred slightly, but he was still able to make out Peter’s concerned and confused face. It felt like his scarf was choking him, as if they were chains tightening around his neck, and Henry pulled it away while clawing in the surrounding air. He was barley able to hear Peter’s gasp through the pounding in his ears.
“Hold on Henry.” He heard Peter whisper to him, his arms wrapped around him to steady him and all the younger boy could think about was that this was a perfect way to die – being held by the boy he loved most.
Suddenly, their surroundings changed and Henry wondered if his mind was deteriorating along with the rest of his health. They were now on barren land, a rock wall stretching upwards besides them and covered completely in dreamshade, it encasing the stone like it was encasing him.
“I’ll be right back.” Peter whispered, lying Henry down on the floor and causing him to whimper. Desperately, Henry tried to reach for him again, “I promise.”
Eyes uselessly following Peter, Henry watched as Peter waved his hands and the vines followed the moment, revealing a waterfall hidden behind them. Peter rushed forward and filled the canteen hanging at his side with the waster of the spring before returning back to Henry, the growth closing behind him.
“Drink this.” Peter demanded, pushing the bottle to Henry’s lips and tilting it up, spilling the water into the younger boy’s mouth. Henry swallowed it, coughing and spluttering as he did, excess liquid sliding down his cheeks. Once the canteen was empty, Henry curled up against Peter, closing his eyes and waiting for death to overcome him.
Only it didn’t.
He felt the pain begin to fade as the poison seemed to retract, allowing him to think clearly and breath properly again. His body no longer ached and he felt so full of life.
Sitting up, he stared at Peter with wide eyes before a smile slowly stretched out across his face. Laughing in disbelief, Henry tossed his hand around Peter and pulled him into a hug, not caring what the other boy would think. He was honestly a bit surprised when he felt the older boy gradually wrap his arms around him as well.
Pulling back, Henry voiced the confusion he was beginning to feel, “I thought there wasn’t a cure for dreamshade.” He stated, bewildered.
Peter shrugged, “Well, there is, but there’s a catch…” He trailed off.
“Wh-What is it?” Henry questioned, fear beginning to creep up on him. He knew that all magic had a price, and he wondered what his life had cost.
“This water’s magically properties are tied to the land,” He began, eyes never leaving Henry’s, “If you leave Neverland, you die.” He finished, causing Henry to pull back even further, and he could tell by the look in Peter’s eyes that he expected him to lash out.
…But oddly enough, he didn’t. Staying in Neverland didn’t see like that bad of a thing to him in that moment. He was beginning to fall in love with all that the island had to offer, and, he was in love with Peter. Although Henry may be the ‘Biggest Believer’, Peter was the one who got him to keep his belief while remaining there and he taught him how to expand on it.
That was his only problem. That he couldn’t find one. Even knowing that he would never be able to return home and be with his family again didn’t bother him all too much, because he had a new family here. His would get along fine without them. His Mother didn’t want him once and she can not want him again and Regina can adopt a new child. He felt like his place was here in Neverland anyways, so was it really that bad that he could no longer leave?
Licking his dry lips, Henry spoke, “I, uhm, I..” He stumbled, trying to find the words he was meaning to say, but couldn’t. Simply, he just shut his mouth and nodded.
Knitting his eyebrows together in confusion, Peter questioned, “You’re okay with that?” He asked.
Biting his lip, Henry avoided his gaze before nodding again, “Here is where I want to be.” He whispered before mumbling, “Here with you.” His face reddened before dropping to stare at his lap.
After a moment of silence, Henry finally gathered up the courage to look up again, seeing Peter’s smirking face.
“‘Here with you’?” Peter mocked, eyebrows rising with emphasis, “I think all those love stories from the Enchanted Forest finally got to your head.” He laughed, his lips stretching into a smile that left Henry dazed, because he couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful.
“Shut up…” Henry muttered, the blush that already encased his face darkening as he stared at the floor again. Instead of getting a vocal response from Peter, he felt his hands slide around his neck in reply and yank him forward, their lips crashing together. Completely shocked from the gesture, it took Henry a moment to respond, but once he did, his hands dug into the front of Peter’s shirt to hold him there, their lips slowly moving together.
Pulling back after a minute, the two were breathless, both greedily breathing in each other. Henry watched as another smirk appeared on Peter’s face and it made Henry want to kiss him again.
“I think I’m going to be just fine with staying here.” Henry laughed, pressing another quick kiss to Peter’s mouth before standing up, turning away before Peter could tease him again.
Everything seemed perfect until Peter voiced a question.
“Who attacked you?” He asked, his face dark with rage and his eyes filled with a hatred Henry had never seen before. It surprised him how quickly Peter was able to switch from their earlier emotion of ease and into this fury.
As much as Henry hated Devin, he couldn’t help but feel like he had given them a gift. Now that Henry couldn’t leave Neverland, his family could stop trying to save him. They can return to Storybrooke and move on with their lives as Henry could do with the Lost Boys.
Shaking his head, Henry replied, “It doesn’t matter.” He said, reaching out and grasping one of Peter’s hand, “I’m alive and I can’t leave.” He reminded him.
Although Peter’s face softened slightly at this, his hard gaze remained mostly intact, “It does matter.” He responded, “He nearly killed you!” He exclaimed, eyes looking wild again.
“Yeah, well that’s my bone to pick.” Henry said, nose crinkling in distaste, “Leave him to me.” He said.
Lip curling, Peter questioned, “It was Devin, wasn’t it?” He quirked an eyebrow, Henry tensing giving him all the answers he needed, “That boy is extremely competitive and I should’ve known he wouldn’t have left his loss earlier alone.” He grumbled to himself.
“Peter.” Henry begged, Peter looking at him, “Please. Just leave it alone. Just for right now.” He intertwined their fingers.
It took Peter a moment to respond, “…Fine, but he will pay.” He finally said, hands tightening in Henry’s as he pulled him forward once again, “No one touches what’s mine.” He breathed against his lips.
Henry liked the sound of that.