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It was a terrible thing, being seen as the leader of the Lost Boys. Some stayed, most eventually found a way out. Never wanting to grow up, but being forced to be a kid forever—it wasn’t intriguing after awhile. They wanted true happiness, not a pretend form of it. They wanted a family that was made up of more than just a few other boys. A puppy wouldn’t hurt, or maybe a kitten. Felix wouldn’t have minded taking care of fish, Peter thought. He seemed like someone who would be into aquariums and water.
That was Pan’s big secret. The lies and the games. All because his strongest insecurity was being left behind for nothing more than a species that had one universal sound. He never gave it all up just for a “meow” and fur allergies. That would be stupid. Pets died, too. The fish would die faster. Maybe Felix could be smarter and invest in a turtle. Turtles could live hundred plus years. Yeah, he had a bit of an abandonment complex, so what? Isn’t that why he had Neverland to begin with? Apparently, even here, in this place where naïveté lived forever, he was still being left for bigger and seemingly better things.
But Felix…he wouldn’t ever admit how he worried every night Felix was plotting with the Lost Boys to find a way off Neverland without Peter’s permission. Magic was a heavy force, after all. It was true that they had to have Pan’s permission, but there were a variety of tricks even Peter fell for every now and then. Peter wanted to scream about it, the darkness eating away his core because Felix could leave. He was clever enough for it. All he had to do was ask for permission, and Peter would let him go.
Footsteps whispered among the grass behind him. Longer pauses, almost silent—the leader of Neverland knew immediately, but didn’t move. Gangly arms wrapped around his shoulders, a sigh falling into the top of his head. “You are a bugger to catch, vanishing like that.”
“Well, it is a game Felix. If I made it too easy, you’d never play.” Peter swiftly bent out of the embrace and turned to face the taller boy.
“Oh, don’t you…” Felix rolled his eyes, and actually it looked like his entire head rolled to the side. “You’ve been thinking again.”
That was true, Peter almost nodded. Instead, he disappeared and re-appeared leaning against a tree, leg crossed over the other keeping him upright. “A trickster never stops,” an obvious smirk to hide the pain.
“It’s been too long with us, Pan. I’ve seen other boys leave, and I’m not dumb.” Felix wouldn’t say, but the eyebrows really conveyed every emotion and Peter didn’t seem to be too aware of it.
“Wouldn’t ever accuse you. Lost Boys are never dumb. Those standards don’t exist in Neverland.”
“Yet,” Felix cut off the rest of what Peter planned to say. He focused on the quirked up eyebrow and the perfect straight line from shoulder to shoulder, the way he could lean against a tree and not bother with balance too much. “You worry I’ll leave your side. Peter is the captain of Neverland; I am merely the first mate, right? Even that loyalty isn’t enough to calm you. I do know how to prove it.”
That got the leader’s attention. Peter stood on both feet, throwing aside the twig he had been fiddling with. “You could leave. I don’t need proof of anything. You could leave, only if I said you could.”
“I won’t.” Felix stared the shorter boy down, face earnest and tone dead serious. “You’ll have to trust someone for once.” There wasn’t any other warning, and Peter’s hand didn’t move fast enough after his eyes registered what happened. A branch—and not just any branch. Even in the dark the shape of it screamed Dreamshade. Poison. Felix was poisoning himself. In the name of Peter. Did he really strive to find a way out so badly he’d be willing to kill himself?
Peter didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He quietly held Felix, helping him to lay on the dirt floor. “No, no, Felix? Why—“ Am I that bad, he thought. Was he the terrible demon, even to the boy he decided to give part of his playful heart to?
“The bottle,” was all the other boy could choke out, going pale and little blotches going slightly purple and blue. Peter just did as Felix asked, reaching for the bottle and holding it to his lips.
“It’s okay. I’ll let you go. If you want to leave—“
Felix shook his head, the liquid from the bottle running down his chin and trailing down his neck. He greedily swallowed and finally coughed, skin easily returning to the healthy tan it was. “Never leave.”
“What was this?”
“The antidote,” Felix lifted a hand and placed it on Peter’s dirt-smudged cheek. “Now I can never leave Neverland, even with your permission.”
Peter didn’t have words. This was by far the worst trick anyone had ever tried to play on him. He didn’t quite understand, yet. There was always a point when someone wanted to leave. Felix killed people, fought them, put them in cages, all for Pan’s sick power play. The boy would be regretting this decision at some point.
“Stop thinking. I did this for my own desires, Pan. If I had left, I’d take you with me. By your side, as long as you want me to serve you.”
Peter still couldn’t say anything. But for the first time in what felt like a millennia, a tear slid down his cheek and he felt like the boy he had always wanted to be. Felix propped himself up against a nearby boulder and let Peter fall onto his chest, sobs wracking his body, painfully and beautifully silent.
They stayed that way the rest of the night, Felix cradling Peter in his lap like a mother would a child, and Peter keeping his head buried in Felix’s neck. He’d never be alone again. The most important person chose to give up everything that could have been just to give Peter that much relief. It was tragic, selfish, and the best act of loyalty a Lost Boy had ever accomplished.
The games would be much harder tomorrow, and maybe Peter would ask Felix about getting a turtle.