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By now young Dylan Springbell has memorized the perimeter of the Elkwood’s home and knows which path leads him to the aging wooden fence, which will take him through the crevice in the broken shed and out into open that bakes during the summer. He’s always diligent in his quiet gait between stones and patches of dead weeds, ever watchful and mindful of the commotions inside the house itself.
It’s not like Miss Elkwood minds him much- well, not anymore. He regards her with the same respect that’s been knocked into his head one too many times, and she minds him like anything else that wanders outside her house in search of company. Dylan unconsciously fixes his tie and makes sure his shoe laces are stuffed in, just in case she does see him and he doesn’t resemble a rascal rummaging through her yard.
It’s late-afternoon, meaning the little ankle-biter Petunia is probably or already has settled in for a nap and Meredith is in his room doing who knows what (not that Dylan ever needs to know). It means Dylan can stray in through the cloud-colored grass and find Elijah where he usually is: lounging on the crudely made hammock suspended by the branches of an aging tree. The Elkwoods tied it up together, and Dylan didn’t trust it enough to ever chance a seat.
As usual, Elijah’s face is partially hidden by a book, and Dylan has no idea how he can read like that. “You weren’t at the shop after school, you dirty liar.”
Elijah doesn’t even acknowledge him at first, and if he does Dylan can’t tell when- maybe when he finally blinks after finishing a paragraph. He gives a strained hum. “Yeah. Was busy, can’t you see?” Elijah sure does have the gall to sound nonchalant, even as he props his book against his chest and holds out an expectant hand. Dylan knows what he’s asking for and stalks around the hammock like a perturbed cat waiting to be let in somewhere. “All I see is a lazy sod who was too into his book to help unload a couple of boxes and snag some free smokes.” And as if preparing a magic trick, Dylan slides his hand into his sleeve and grins, revealing two packs he slyly kept away from the rest of careful wandering eyes.
“See that?!”
Trick or not, Elijah beams as if he had just seen magic. “Here, here.”
“You don’t deserve it.” But Dylan tosses a pack to him regardless. “What’re you reading now- oh, of course.” The only book Elijah has been reading since he finished The Moonstone and raved about it for a week. Dylan doesn’t know if he regrets lending Elijah the book or keeping his word when he swore he wouldn’t ruin the ending for him. He thought it was pretty predictable, really. But to go from The Moonstone to that...
“‘Of course’? So you get it too, don’t you, Dylan? It’s absurdly good.” Elijah rips the strip of paper away and pries open his pack, looking only partially interested in his task. “I’m on the part where Peter and Wendy are about drown and see the tail of Peter’s kite. But it can’t carry them both, you know…” And then he hears Elijah trail off quietly, once again submerged in his book, attention barely simmering above the surface. “Hey, hey. Don’t leave burn marks on this one.” He gives the hammock a shake after Elijah briefly falls into silence.
“Augh, don’t do that! You’ll make me sick.”
Dylan replies by clicking on his lighter. “You’ve been into this one, real into this one. Is it the Pirates?” He’s tired of standing, and after nudging a flat stone into place against the base of the Elkwood’s impressive tree, he squats and sits. It would be the pirates.
“The Pirates are good, yes.”
“Uh huh.” It’s the first grateful inhale of his smoke that prompts him to reminisce, which is awfully short considering he didn’t fall for the book nearly as much as Elijah did. “I mean, it’s alright…”
There’s an indignant squawk from Elijah right before he erupts, whirling to him and billowing fumes. “Dylan, it’s more than alright! I was completely prepared to only like this book when you gave it to me, you were so, so- lackadaisical!”
“Hey!” Who the hell did Elijah think he was, honestly? “I like Peter Pan as much as you do, I was hooked-” He ignores Elijah snickering at the unintended pun- “Don’t act high and mighty just ‘cause you’re reading it for the first time!” Dylan admits he’s almost always defensive about something, but in this case it was really just a matter of principle (on his behalf). It was a good book!
Elijah swings his legs round the edge of the hammock and balances his weight while they dangle. His thumb is devotedly jammed between the pages where he'd left off. “Then tell me. Nothing I shouldn’t know yet, of course- but tell me your favorite part.” And there’s that completely honest face, the one Elijah probably doesn’t realize makes him look five years younger and ten years dumber. Dylan knows the facade behind that face well enough and that’s all he needs to answer him.
“Hmm. You’re not that far ahead so I can’t really say...but I suppose the scene when they try and catch a mermaid-”
Elijah’s eyes spring wide. “AH, I liked that scene too! When Wendy has the scales-”
“Hey, are you gonna let me finish?”
“Oh.” He’s subdued, but not quick enough since Dylan is already changing the subject. “And your’s, huh? So far?” He watches Elijah mentally recount each piece of dialogue and scenario and sees his brows furrow until he’s narrowed every word down to one moment, that moment. “When they’re saving Tiger Lily. Oh, and when Hook tricks Peter into guessing his name,” Even as Elijah snickers, Dylan gives a pause. “It was terribly clever.” Right, he remembers that.
“Eh…”
“Eh? Eh??”
“It was clever of Hook, alright. Peter is pretty egotistical, yeah?” He digs his thumb nail into the side of his pack and stops once he realizes Elijah hasn’t said anything. “Yeah? He can only think of himself.”
“Well…” Dylan hears him, just slightly tentative. “Peter is a boy.”
“I’ve never met a boy that in love with himself.” But here he squints at Elijah. “Although…”
“He’s not in love with himself! I meant, Peter acts like a kid, he wants things, he pretends. He pretends so much he feels the pain in his arm when Hook wounded him! He makes his arm limp and says ‘I’m hurt’, he’s a child and it’s all magic. He’s a child hero, and you really don’t see much of those these days, right? A band of children fighting pirates together, trying to catch mermaids and saving princesses. Peter makes his own imaginings a reality, he made others believe in it too.” Elijah looks almost ridiculous here, straining his emphasis with his hands and his desperate face, clutching the book to his person like a last hope (and Dylan can’t believe him sometimes). “That’s what the whole story is about! A child hero.”
Birds flutter and shake leaves above them, and through all this Dylan remains steely-faced, until he exhales and lifts a finger. Elijah has a good idea of what he’s in for because Dylan often makes the same face when he corrects someone or makes a big stink out of something. “I like the story.”
“But-”
“I hate Peter Pan.”
Elijah pales, he gasps. “But why-!”
“He’s an egotistical sod who puts his comfort and leisure before the safety of say, his companions! He’s a selfish, uncaring brat who shows absolutely no empathy to anyone around him, yet he expects to be treated like a leader because he thinks he’s making up a funny game that plays by his rules. In the end he’s just a kid, a little brat whose forcing everyone to play with him despite the dangers and their limitations,” Dylan sucks in his cigarette, letting the silence fall in for effect. “He’s a good character, alright. Creative? Sure. Reckless? Yeah. Hero?” He shakes his head. “Hell no!”
“But-” Elijah claws at nothing, then slaps his hands over his own face and squeezes. “Dylan, noooo-”
“He annoys me! He’s so annoying! He was annoying then and he’s annoying now.” Well, it’s not like there was a desperate need for credibility here anyways, he figures. He can get angry if he wants, even if it means tossing away the valid points of his argument into the ground.
“But Peter is the way he is because he remained a boy forever, how else could anyone expect to live happily if they acted older than they are? How boring! How dull. It doesn’t make for a fantastical story, I’m sure the author thought this. He made Peter Pan like this on purpose-”
“Of course he did!” A shout, maybe one that might’ve been a little too rough leaving Dylan’s throat. “Come on, I know that! It doesn’t change the fact that Peter Pan is selfish, a no good hero.”
Elijah brings both feet hard to the ground and smiles at the prints he makes. “Aha, you said it.”
“No good hero isn’t the same thing.” Dylan looks past the tree and hammock and sees the sun sinking somewhere beyond their vision. “Hey, it’ll be getting dark soon.”
“It will,” Elijah briefly wrings his hands. "If I finish the story, maybe I’ll dislike Peter too?”
“...you better not.” Dylan rises too and pats the dust away from his pants the best he can. “That’s just the way I see it. Don’t let me change the way you see something, you should know that by now.” Shockingly, Elijah merely nods. It’s all he does but it’s enough. His cigarette is smothered in dirt by the time Elijah calls him to start walking towards the house. Dylan carefully declines the invitation to eat with them, he always does- (He doesn’t think Miss Elkwood constantly appreciates the way Elijah invites people over without her knowing, even if it’s just him).
“I was worried for a second there, Dylan! I thought you didn’t like Peter at all…” His voice leaves off at the end of a horrified whisper, and luckily he remains unaffected. Sometimes it’s seriously hard to believe Elijah is older than Meredith, what with the way he acts.
“I don’t hate him, but I refuse to call someone like that a hero.” Dylan’s face makes a harmless sneer. “But hey! Who am I to judge who you look up to?”
And so very predictably, Elijah lights up and grins at him. “I knew you wouldn’t.” In a very self-assured mocking tone that has Dylan shoving his shoulder and Elijah warmly laughing into the air, despite how the temperature begins to plummet and bite their skin in a cool, evening chill.