to die will be an awfully big adventure ; kaisoo ; peter pan!au
Title: To die will be an awfully big adventure
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jongin/Kyungsoo
Wordcount: 16,450
Warning: please don't spoil yourself, i swear it's a sort of happy ending [Spoiler (click to open)]terminal disease, character death, and actually, if you read between the lines (don't) multiple character deaths
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME. Unbetaed. Any similarity with J.M Barrie's works is deliberate. Peter Pan belongs to J.M Barrie.
Notes: Title (obviously)comes from Peter Pan and Wendy.
Written for Kaisoo day. This fic has been in my wip folder for two years and a half now, it was about time that I finish it (although it gave me such a hard time). Please keep in mind that, although I tried very hard, I most surely didn't meet the perfection of J.M Barrie's writing. This is my very plain homage to this amazing writer.
Summary: All children except one grow up.
All children except one grow up. Jongin finds it rather delightful now that he thinks about it as he lazily swims along the North Wind -his new favorite wind ever. (Jongin's definition of forever is one of the most priceless treasure in the whole universe, but alas too precious to be put into words. All you have to know is that Jongin’s forever is a lot different from yours, therefore, he will have a new favorite wind ever tomorrow.)
Jongin has never liked rules but he enjoys playing with them until they break under his weight. This one was the funniest to mess up with -at least he decides it was- and it fills him with childish pride. He wants to remind the universe he is the exception so he bursts into a provocative laughter. Eyes disappearing into crescents, Jongin prints a giggling spin into the night sky and slowly forgets the reason for his mirth as the wind tries to whirl around faster than him. Jongin brushes away memories of rules without a frown and laughs a little louder because nobody else is in the streets underneath him. It makes him feel one of a kind -which he obliviously is- so he giggles even more.
Jongin’s chuckles fade away in the howling of the wind when he plunges towards the lights of the city. It’s the middle of winter but Jongin isn’t cold. Like he often tells the Lost Boys back in Neverland: when Cold first aimed to grab him, Jongin pushed Cold away with so much strength that Cold is now stuck in the North of the island. He could probably throw Cold out of Neverland in the blink of an eye but it wouldn’t be as funny as seeing Captain Hook’s fingers shake, all blue and rigid, when Jongin banishes the pirates’ ship.
There are plenty of stories about Jongin and Neverland, plenty of tales and legends, and Jongin likes the ones children who are supposed to sleep whisper in the dark of their room better than the ones adults tell as bedtime stories. Grown-ups’ choices of words are ridiculous: they use ‘hook’ when children say ‘the scary silver hand than can cut Mr Smee’s hair’ and Jongin agrees way more with that one. (Ask any of the Lost Boys: it’s definitely more of a scary silver hand that can cut Mr Smee’s hair than a hook.) Adults are sick with the weirdest disease of all: they love rules and reasoning and analyzing to the point that it gets ridiculous. Sometimes, Jongin thinks he should maybe pity them -pity is such a nice feeling that makes him feel so powerful each time he decides he’s going to pity Captain Hook- because the disease caused them to forget how to fly, but then he hears his name broken into complicated analysis and emblems and nothing ruins a good story more than frowning faces and contemplative eyes. And nothing makes Jongin angrier than a ruined story. Adults are the worst and there is nothing that Jongin loathes more-well for now, because he can’t think of anything else right now but there’s probably a list somewhere back in Neverland. Captain Hook has a scary silver hand that can cut Mr Smee’s hair and Neverland obeys Jongin because Jongin is stronger than Neverland, that’s it.
Jongin wrinkles his nose with disdain when he flies by a married couple’s window (“It’s time for her to grow up, darling, she’s too old to sleep with her younger brothers, she needs her own bedroom.”) but his eyes never leave the sparkling trail Tao's wings draw in the dark of the night. He knows the itinerary by heart but it’s better to let Tao lead the way, otherwise the tiny fairy would take offense and Jongin really hates it when Tao gets grumpy. Not to mention that Tao knows what time it is back in Neverland and it’s incredibly useful because Jongin needs to be back by dawn, so he can wake the Lost Boys up and proclaim the start of their new daily adventure. Jongin doesn’t remember it for now, but when he’ll suddenly urge Tao to tell him what time it is in Neverland that night, he’ll add proudly that it was such a great idea to bring Tao with him-like he does every night. That’s the thing about never growing up: too many memories mean too much experience and experience means wrinkles and a brain that needs to be bigger to remember everything.
But Jongin’s story can’t be told with adults’ words otherwise it’ll become a definition-dictionaries are awful books with even more awful pictures-so let”s say the reason why Jongin forgets so many things is only because Jongin wants to.
Jongin’s heart beats faster in his chest when he recognizes the house’s silhouette. Tao turns toward him and his tiny almond eyes seem to ask questions Jongin can’t read mostly because he isn’t looking at his companion. Adrenaline rushes in his veins faster than the wind slides against the curves of his body. He’s flying way too fast for insecurity to be able to grab a hold of him so there’s no fear or wondering in the depths of his eyes. They slow down when they reach the portal and Tao giggles when he sees the cocker spaniel rushing out of his doghouse. Jongin hears possibilities of fun in the dog’s growl more than threats so he catches Tao and shakes him above the doghouse. Tao pretends to be outraged as he crosses his arms on his chest and pouts at Jongin, but Jongin doesn’t miss the extra fairy dust that lands on the doghouse’s roof. The dog barks and Jongin hides his chuckles behind his hand as he catches his shadow raising the doghouse a couple of inches above the grass. The dog whines when the doghouse flies towards him and Jongin and Tao laugh as the cocker spaniel takes flight.
But Jongin doesn’t forget.
He releases Tao and pretends he doesn’t hear him grumble under his breath as the fairy smooths out the creases on his delicate outfit.
“Come on, Tao, it’s almost morning, we need to hurry!” Jongin hisses as he reaches out the side of the house. The first rays of sunshine won’t splatter dark canvas until several hours later but Jongin likes a little bit of danger in his adventure: it makes the Lost Boys gasp when he tells them everything. If adults’ words ruin stories, gasps make them better. Jongin knows it, because he is the best storyteller in the world. (Back in Neverland, there’s a saying that the Indian Sachem stopped telling stories for his people when he caught Jongin mimicking one of his most dangerous duels against Captain Hook.)
Jongin’s fingers grip the wind’s arms when he reaches the higher window and he uses the hold to stop himself right before he crashes through it. The wind hugs him tightly, caresses his body and cries in his ears, begging him to come back and play but Jongin brushes it off easily. Wind was there when Jongin banished Cold so Wind doesn’t insist and sadly goes back to scaring children by howling in chimneys. The north wind isn’t Jongin’s favorite thing ever anymore.
His eyes meet larger ones, thick eyelashes and pale forehead coming out of under dark bangs and Jongin’s mind finally finds peace.
He leans towards the window but stops a few centimeters away from the glass, like he always does. On the other side, a pale hand lands delicately on the cold surface and all Jongin’s mind seems to register is the space between the delicate fingers and the way his owns quiver with longing. He forgets everything about colors as his vision is filled with black -black hair, black bottomless eyes- and white -white skin, tiny white teeth biting on chapped lips- and Jongin wonders if the darkness sitting in the boy’s room is the same as the one he is currently covered with. The boy smiles and Jongin discovers a new color in the heart-shaped smile. It’s beautiful and it leaves burning marks in his eyes and mind, and Jongin is pretty sure Cold would hate that color. He decides to call it red and excitement keeps him from remembering the mermaids’ hair -red- Captain Hook’s jacket -red- and the color of his blood when he decides to get hurt to make his adventures better-red.
“Hi, Kyungsoo,” Jongin beams and Kyungsoo comes closer to the window, until his nose is pressed against the glass, just to make sure his voice reaches Jongin’s ears when he finally answers.
“Hi, Jongin.”
The sight is funny: the way Kyungsoo’s nose flattens against the window and how big his eyes are as he looks up to Jongin so Jongin laughs. Kyungsoo straightens up, wide orbs staring at him and Jongin wonders if Kyungsoo would look exactly the same if there was no window between them. He wonders how Kyungsoo smells, if the air he breathes is as tasty as the one Jongin breathes and if he is as pale as he seems to be. Jongin can’t take the risk because he knows he isn’t supposed to be there, he knows he’s not made to live in Kyungsoo’s world so this probably means Kyungsoo isn’t made to live in his. What if Jongin opens the window and Kyungsoo breaks in a million pieces because Jongin’s lungs release poison, what if Jongin grabs him by the hand to take him to Neverland and Kyungsoo withers? Jongin never feared death, he never feared Captain Hook and his silver hand that can cut Mr. Smee’s hair but he fears Kyungsoo’s disappearance so much.
“Hi, Tao,” Kyungsoo says, blinking down at Tao.
Tao sticks his tongue out at Kyungsoo, who chuckles. Jongin doesn't see anything that could justify the look of pleasure filling Kyungsoo's eyes. The only nice thing about Tao is the fact that he makes the perfect character for Jongin to save when he's getting bored and he wants a nice story. Maybe if he saved him now, Kyungsoo would look back at him. Congratulating himself for his amazing idea, Jongin sweeps Tao away with a flick of the wrist, and Tao falls off the window's ledge.
Kyungsoo gasps, clenching his tiny hands on the window, and Jongin feels ten feet tall. He hopes his clothes feel ten feet tall too, because Jongin doesn't want to rip them up.
Under Kyungsoo's eyes -black- Jongin dives into the night -black-, his hand stretched out before him. Tao is waiting for him a few inches above the ground, furiously beating his wings as he pouts. Jongin's fingers close around his tiny waist, and he spins around to fly back to the window. When he puts Tao on the ledge again, the latter is pouting and crossing his arms on his chest, but Jongin only sees gratefulness for having being saved. He beams proudly at Kyungsoo who claps, enthralled.
A grown up would have probably described Jongin as a jealous child ready to make his companions fall just for the sake of having Kyungsoo smile at him, and him only. But for the sake of the story, no grown up will tell it, as their minds lack the necessary width to talk about Jongin. He has been, after all, ten feet taller since Kyungsoo smiled at him.
Jongin is sitting on the great stump near the hole he shares with the Lost Boys, the back of his heels banging into the damp bark as he dangles his legs without thinking. His long fingers carefully hold delicate wooden pipes kept together by used strings. He doesn’t remember why it looks so damaged nor does he question it. There's no trace of a time when he didn’t know how to play and Jongin is actually more disposed to believe that he’s always known how to. His fingers find their spots immediately and he brings the panpipes closer to his lips, his mind already playing the melody his breath is about to set free. The lively notes dance in the air around him and Neverland quivers, itching to join the fairies’ bubbly bounces. There’s no sunset in Neverland, no clock ticking the last minutes of day away: night comes in the form of the dark blue blanket stars wrap themselves in when they gather to watch Jongin play panpipes.
Today was a great day that would turn into a beautiful story, and Jongin rewrites it with music. How he woke up this morning is already fading away from his mind, and he lets it go because he likes stories better than reality anyway. The panpipes’ sweet whistles travel all around Neverland and soon, the mermaids leave their rocks to dive deep into the sea, flamboyant hair waving behind them. A few miles away from there, Captain Hook is done taking care of the cut Jongin made with the tip of his dagger a couple of hours earlier, and decides that losing himself in rum is the perfect way to end this day. The Sachem, as for himself, allows the first smile of the day on his lips as all possible dangers die with the joyful melody. His wrinkles soften since there aren’t any assailant to confuse with the impenetrable map on his face anymore.
Jongin doesn’t play to conclude the day -Jongin has no sense of closure after all, he lives in a never-ending middle- but the day does end because he plays.
The notes fly just like Jongin does when his feet leave the ground: they spin in the air, plunge and then fly up higher above Jongin’s head. You probably can hear them giggling in the back of your mind when you fall asleep, because they are as elusive as Jongin is -and as proud as him to be so. A few steps away from the stump, the Fairy people are celebrating their favorite time of the day with joyful round circles. In the darkness of the night, their wings shine brighter than ever, so bright that their egos often double, and they gain a few centimeters. And as every fairy knows it: tastier berries are on the higher branches. Upon hearing his peers having fun, Tao flies out of the Lost Boys’s hole, delighted at the idea of the rainbow-colored berries filling up his belly. Before joining the other fairies though, he comes to a halt a few inches away from the wooden pipes, his wings tinkling as he remains hung up in the air above Jongin’s thighs. The breath that comes from Jongin’s lungs tastes like oxygen when it rushes into the panpipes; but where Tao is, on the other end of the pipes, it comes out as aerial pieces of carelessness, and Tao laughs as they ruffle through his hair.
The Lost Boys all pop out of the hole one by one, tiny fingers tickling when they have the occasion, and shoulders bumping, their chuckles not really discreet, but instead as excited as ever. Sehun is the first one to sit down at Jongin’s feet, his honey-colored hair hidden by the furry hood of his wolf suit. Jongdae is quick to join him on the ground, his finger playing with the tip of his fox suit’s tail. One by one, they all take place around Jongin’s stump before huddling together -not because they are cold but because they were once lost, and then found, and the affection that comes with it is as precious as Jongin’s definition of forever.
Just like Jongin’s song had no beginning, it has also no end, and if it wasn’t for Sehun raising his hand, Jongin would still be playing. He puts the panpipes down with a confident sparkle in his eyes as soon as Sehun’s questioning look lands on him. Every question born in Neverland has an answer already planted in Jongin’s mind, ready to be collected; and it also comes with marveled gasps from the Lost Boys, much to Jongin’s delight.
“Jongin,” Sehun begins. “What’s a Kyungsoo?"
Jongin hears a mocking laugh coming from behind his back and when he turns around, his eyes meet Tao’s laughing ones. The fairy is spread out on the grass at the edge of the woods, his lips covered with red juice and a pile of berries taller than himself next to him. The cheeky creature is watching Jongin with delight. That question wasn’t born in Neverland and as the only one allowed in the other world -other than Jongin himself- Tao knows it very well.
Jongin isn't used to anything, but in the intricate web of new memories he creates himself every day when he wakes up, he's even less used to ignorance. The Lost Boys are looking at him with patience, eager to hear his answer -because Jongin always knows everything- but Jongin's lips remain sealed. He does not wonder how Sehun came up with Kyungsoo's name, mostly because Jongin is a child and unlike adults, children don't ask useless questions; but also because Neverland is in Jongin's mind, just like Kyungsoo is, and Sehun probably met him in a dream or two.
Sehun blinks and Baekhyun slightly tilts his head. There's a thrill of excitement that settles somewhere in Jongin's belly, and it stretches out to caress his spin with long shivers of anticipation. What an adventure!, Jongin thinks as the questioning looks in the Lost Boys' eyes turn into enemies he has to fight. He has plenty of weapons ready and he chooses the best of all: stories. As he does that, somewhere in the world, maybe in the room next to yours, there's an adult who suddenly remembers how it was to be a child; and before they fade away, memories create a middle for a perfect new story in his mind. The adult will come up with a beginning and an ending -because grownups think once upon a times can only be because there are endings- and he will later tell all of that as a bedtime story. The story will travel all around the world and you will probably hear it as the time Jongin wrote the most beautiful poem ever created. To this day, Indians still quote it in their songs.
"Kyungsoo is a little boy," Jongin finally answers, his voice as musical as the panpipes' whistles were.
"Oh! Is he lost, too?" Minseok cries out with a jolt as one of his bunny ears fall on his face.
“No,” Jongin answers with a burst of inspiration. The moment it blooms in his mind, it becomes the truth, and Jongin scrunches up his nose in disgust. “Grown up don't want him to be lost, so they put him in a cage.”
The Lost Boys gasp, and even Neverland hisses in pure outrage. Somewhere outside the bay, on the pirates' boat, Capitain Hook startles as a wave breaks the peacefulness of the sea and floods the deck. Neverland isn't happy, he muses with a worried glance at the stars. They're frowning, crossing their arms on their tiny golden chests as they listen to Jongin's story. Captain Hook grumbles. More rum.
“Are there crocodiles in his cage?” Chanyeol asks from under its too large bear hood. Chanyeol used to be the tallest of them all, but Jongin didn't like it, and since then the bear suit has suddenly become larger. Now Chanyeol is tiny, almost as tiny as Tao.
Jongin nods knowingly, and Chanyeol covers his gasping mouth with his paws.
“And pirates?!” Jongdae asks.
“Pirates too,” Jongin confirms.
The Lost Boys exchange heavy look and angry pouts. None of them remembers how they got lost, or how Jongin found them. Jongin himself doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter. Adults would talk in whisper-like voices of tiny graves lying here and there in Kensington gardens, but you would quickly realize that it doesn't make sense at all. It would have meant goodbyes, but goodbyes mean forgetting, and Jongin never forgets the Lost Boys. The truth is, getting lost was their first adventure, and the most magnificent one. They all feel very sad for Kyungsoo.
“How is he?” Junmyeon asks, curious. He has the fluffiest fur, and even a little bit of mane on his hood, and he wonders if Kyungsoo is like him.
At that, Jongin remains wordless. Tao pulls his head out of the berry he was munching his way through, and he quirks an eyebrow at Jongin, mocking.
The truth is, Jongin has tried to know what Kyungsoo looks like. He has come back from the other world every morning and tried to make his own Kyungsoo. A little bit of star for his eyes, the mermaids' songs for his hair, and his favorite piece of cloud for Kyungsoo's skin, but it has never worked. It's frustrating, but not final. Jongin doesn't even know what final means. All he knows is that he's in that moment, in every adventure, when it feels like the story will be his last story, except that it never is.
“He looks like a Lost Boy who isn't lost,” Jongin snaps back at Junmyeon, annoyed.
The Lost Boys all nod all-knowingly. They all know what it looks like, like long hours spent playing in the cold, so cold snow for some of them, or blurry memories of the high water tower they used to climb up on for others, like the sudden, but fleeting knowledge that there was something before Neverland. Then it's all sadness again for Kyungsoo, who hasn't been found, because he hasn't been lost in the first place.
Neverland, now all black and white, black for Captain Hook's schemes for the following day, and white with the last ashes of the Indians' fires, curls around Jongin and the Lost Boys, shrinking so much that for a split second the mermaids find themselves forced to sit on the same rock, hissing with outrage. Neverland's borders, which touch the clouds and everything that isn't Neverland, are the most curious parts of Neverland, the most audacious, and it's because they want to whisper in Jongin's ear that they have to get closer and make Neverland smaller than Jongin's head. Fortunately for everyone in Neverland, Jongin's head happens to be larger than what it seems.
Tilting his head, Jongin listens to the voice only he can understand, and that's how Neverland's borders remind him of another black, another white, and even another color that hasn't been named yet. Was it really Neverland's idea? Or Jongin's idea? Who knows, for Neverland happens to be in Jongin's mind, and Jongin happens to be in Neverland. Jongin thinks it's a great idea though, and like every great idea, it is one that came from him, so he puts away the wooden pipes and jumps back on his feet.
“Are you going to see if he's finally lost?” Sehun asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Neverland's borders are also shaking with the same excitement, and Jongin himself feels his toes rise a few inches from the ground.
“I'm going on an adventure,” he states, and the Lost Boys screech, delighted. Adventure means another story, and it's all that matters for them. They have, after all, four ears, don't they?
Jongin grabs Tao by his skinny ankle and shakes him so the fairy will shrink back to his usual size. Tao blushes with anger and embarrassment, and the barks of laughter the Lost Boys let out when he loses his hat are enough to cut his ego in two. He pulls his leg away and glares at Jongin, chirping with anger, but he chokes on the affront when Jongin hands him back his hat, the prettiest red spreading on his cheekbones. Jongin doesn't see it as red though. He sees it like Captain Hook's jacket, or some of the mermaids' curly hair. Red is different, red is in another world.
“Let's go!” Jongin says.
And then he takes off, to red, to places Neverland's borders can only imagine. Behind him, a dark veil falls on the island, and everything stops living, stops breathing. Neverland isn't quite Neverland when Jongin isn't there. Thankfully, Jongin never forgets the key, so that no one can enter Neverland while he's gone. It would be a catastrophe, could you imagine adults wandering and labeling everything with those annoying tiny little words they like to lock in dictionaries? It is very lucky, to be honest, that Jongin doesn't like grown ups, because where would the Lost Boys go if they were to remember their names and stop being lost?
Jongin doesn't like the other world a bit. He doesn't like geometrical shaped streets, he doesn't like the sometimes round, sometimes straight signs everywhere, and he loathes even more how people look at them, as if they made sense. Maybe it should make sense for him as well, maybe it once did, and the feeling crawls under his skin, and makes him uncomfortable. It brings back memories of warm arms and fond whispers, but also anger and heartbreaks. Jongin doesn't like memories, he doesn't have none. He sweeps those away, exiling them in the north of Neverland, with Cold, and the following second, he's laughing at the top of his lungs as he swoops down on this new world, Tao following suit.
Jongin loves the other world, because he doesn't know it, and everything feels like an adventure to him. It gives him the best stories to tell, like that time he fought with one of the big metallic machines that spit light and roar like thunder. Or maybe it was today. Or just now. Jongin hops from one street lamp to another, boasting about his victory against the monster. Don't roll your eyes at him, for Jongin has understood that order and logical don't sit well with story telling. No story needs to have truly happened before it is told to be great, for it always happens in the mind of the children after anyway. Jongin isn't sure how many times Rapunzel cut her hair to save her friend, but he can assure you it has happened quite a lot.
He forgets all about Rapunzel when he spots the familiar house though. Familiarity is such a weird thing to feel when you don't know what it is, but Jongin doesn't frown at the feeling of expectation swelling in his chest. He glances at Tao, and decides it will be worth it only if he gets there first. He grips the northern wind's back, and chuckles when the latter yaws and propels him straight against the house's wall. He hits his knee, and rushes to check if there's a bruise already. As he hopes to see one, for the sake of the story, the prettiest blue and purple bloom on his skin, and Jongin considers it with pride. Luckily, he survived, but that's only because of how brave and strong he is.
Tao stops above his knees, his lips curling into a pout as he points at the blood dripping on Jongin's skin. (But it's not red, it's not red.)
“It's okay,” Jongin reassures him with a brave nod. “I'll be fine, I'm stronger than that.”
Tao sniffs, his tiny eyes glistening with tears larger than his fists. Jongin pats Tao's head with his index finger to cheer him up.
“Jongin? Jongin, is that you?”
Jongin's face breaks into a huge grin. He jumps over thin air, high-fives a lazy wind that was just flying by, and crouches down on the window ledge. Black and white welcome him, the black of a little boy's room, the white of the silver light going through the window. Black hair, lashes and eyes, white skin and teeth, and, of course, there's also--
“Hi Kyungsoo,” Jongin announces before adding proudly, “I just invented red.”
The boy chuckles softly before nodding and Jongin turns towards Tao to see if the fairy is as excited as he is -because he’s pretty sure he just discovered the most precious treasure- but Tao looks particularly unimpressed. Jongin shrugs it away. Tao is a fairy and fairies are way to tiny to contain more than one feeling -and right now, it’s obviously disinterest as Tao taps his foot on the window ledge, his arms crossed on his chest.
Kyungsoo looks at the fairy with a faint pout.
“Is he sulking?”
Jongin shakes his head.
“Fairies can't sulk. They can't remember a thing and be mad about it at the same time.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo blinks. “Of course.”
Tao, though, is very bad-tempered, and although he can't remember why he's annoyed, he guesses there's a reason, so he keeps glaring at them both, his eyes even hardening on Kyungsoo when the latter chuckles.
“He's really cute,” Kyungsoo says.
“No he's not,” Jongin pouts. “He's mean and he eats too many berries.”
“I like berries,” Kyungsoo says dreamily, and that does it for Jongin.
He straightens and beams at Kyungsoo.
“I could pick some from Neverland for you,” he says, delighted. “You'd like them!”
Kyungsoo nods. “I'm sure I would.”
In the back of Jongin's head, a new Neverland slowly surfaces, exactly like every Neverland before, because it is made of Jongin, but this one is also made of Kyungsoo, or at least the forest is, because hundred of berries of different shades, shapes and tastes, are now weighing on the branches, so much that they're now touching the ground.
“I was waiting for you,” Kyungsoo says. “Look what my mom gave to me.”
Jongin watches, mesmerized, as Kyungsoo moves away from the window. For a split second, the darkness of his room engulfs him, and the only things Jongin can catch through the heavy velvet of the night are the bright numbers in the back of Kyungsoo's room. They're staring back at Jongin, mocking, and trying to fool him into thinking they're red. Jongin is too clever though, he was the one who invented red after all, and, although he does not have the words to pinpoint them, the differences are clear in his mind. Putting words on everything is a grownup disease, and Jongin is very careful not to catch it, so he keeps his mouth close, but still glares at the numbers. One of them changes, from three to four, and Jongin frowns at its cockiness.
“It's a sword,” Kyungsoo says as he walks back to the window, fighting away the shadows desperately trying to eat him. Jongin isn't surprised though. Kyungsoo is a not-totally-lost Boy, and Lost Boys are only afraid of the things Jongin tells them to fear.
Kyungsoo sits back on the window ledge, and presses a sword, a bit longer than his arm, against the window.
“Will it be useful against the pirates in Neverland?”
Jongin bites his lips, considers the weapon under Kyungsoo's nervous frown. Tao's mocking chuckles as he rolls on the window ledge, his hands clenching on his stomach have him lower his eyes with disappointment. Jongin clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he knocks Tao away with a flick.
“Yes,” he nods. “It's a good sword.”
Kyungsoo's face lightens up. He checks his own sword, his tiny fingers poking the end of it, and looks at Jongin again.
“Is it sharp enough?”
Jongin leans in, his face inches from the window. His breath collapses against the glass in hazy clouds, but Jongin still sees clearly through them, just like he sees clearly through the rounded plastic point of the sword. He sees it as it would be if they were heroes in a story, fighting against pirates, because they are, they definitely are.
“It is,” he says. “Even sharper than Captain Hook's sword. Though, he never managed to touch me with it anyway.”
Kyungsoo's eyes fills with admiration. His elbow hits the window with a low bump as he scouts closer to it, but none of them pay attention to it. It's an explorer thing after all- not stopping at the map's edges, not caring about the borders.
Jongin taps the little dagger on his belt, and rules bend under his weight like they have always done, so that both he and Kyungsoo consider the tiny barely pointy knife as the most deathly weapon ever seen.
“The most important isn't how long your sword is,” Jongin explains. “It's how you use it. Do you know how to fight with a sword?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head, but there's no sadness or shame in his eyes. Just like Jongin, he knows how to recognize the start of an adventure. It's not about explorers this time, but about boys who are brave enough to pause, consider something and think : “well, isn't that the start of an adventure?” and hop into it even if it means loosing themselves.
“I can teach you,” Jongin says, a little breathless. (What an adventure!)
“How?” Kyungsoo answers.
He's one inch from loosing himself, one step, one heartbeat. Jongin has no recollection of previous victories against evil, or what he chose as evil, but winning is something he's used to, he decides. Even though habits are hard to obtain, hard to remember, there's something in the gleam inside Kyungsoo's eyes that reminds him of Cold running away from Neverland, or Captain Hook drowning in rum, or how all children except one grow up. Victories.
“Let me in,” Jongin says. “And I'll show you.”
Kyungsoo bites his lips, considers the window -frontier. Even Tao stops chirping mocking fairy words at Kyungsoo to open his eyes wide and large. It doesn't suit him, and Tao is usually quick to remember what makes him look at his best, but the surprise filling him is so intense that there's no room for anything else. Kyungsoo's eyes meet Jongin, and somewhere after the second star to the right, Neverland withers for a split second, because Jongin realizes that if that window were to be opened, he'd win. He knows though that he shouldn't be here, that this isn't his mission. Tiny invisible graves flash in his mind, and he almost understands, he almost remembers what he's supposed to do, why the Lost Boys are lost, why he doesn't grow up. He almost does, actually. He almost grows up, because nothing kills a story like reading between the lines. Fortunately though, Jongin forgets what he deems to be meaningless, and right now, nothing could be as important as Kyungsoo's fingers, so Neverland goes back to sleep, Tao goes back to breathing, and Jongin goes back to being Jongin, with all that it implies.
Kyungsoo opens the window, slowly, his eyes glancing now and then at the darkness behind him, and the bright numbers. Jongin looks down, his shadow waiting for the gap to be wider so it can hop into Kyungsoo's room, but Kyungsoo stops.
“I can't,” he says. “My mom said I shouldn't open the window. She said it's too cold outside.”
Jongin frowns.
“It's not cold,” he argues. “And even if it was, I could make it warm for you.”
Kyungsoo looks like he's considering it again, but he finally shakes his head.
“I can't,” he repeats. “I could get sick. I can never go out.”
Anger suddenly floods Jongin, like it has never done so before, or like it has done a billion of times already. Jongin clenches his wrists, and glares at Kyungsoo, at the darkness and at the numbers which keep mocking him. He doesn't like closed windows, they remind him of bars and warm arms wrapped around a baby boy while tiny fists hit the window. Closed windows are like nevers and never is an awfully long time.
Seized by his jealousy and his anger, Jongin grabs Tao and pushes him inside Kyungsoo's room. The fairy, who still hadn't grown back to his normal size after Neverland had almost died, slips easily in the space, and soon his golden halo breaks the darkness of Kyungsoo's room. Jongin takes great pleasure in seeing the numbers shy away from the light and grow pale.
Kyungsoo yelps, his eyes widening as Tao draws angry sparkling trails all around him. Jongin laughs, Neverland breathes in so deep that Captain Hook falls off his bed, and maybe your shoulders suddenly itch as though they were remembering of a time when they had wings attached to them, wings so strong you could fly.
“A fairy!” Kyungsoo cries out. He raises his arms above his head, fingers clenching on thin air as he tries to catch a still infuriated Tao. “There's a fairy in my room!”
He's dancing, jumping all around his room, bouncing on his bed, hoping up and down behind Tao, and Neverland slips into his room. The panpipes melodies, the Indian Sachem and the wrinkles mapping the corners of his eyes, Captain Hook and his silver hand that can cut Mr. Smee's hair, and the Mermaids brushing their hair with shells. Kyungsoo's world and Jongin's collide, they merge, they mix, for the very first time, and it's another victory for Jongin. He can see it, just like he can see through condensation and toys, the soft and silky polecat's costume on Kyungsoo.
Rules are like nevers though, they have bars and they're more than often closed. The pale numbers flicker, the four of them change, and Tao finds back his way out of Kyungsoo's room. His wings furiously beat the air around him, and he shakes his tiny fist as Jongin, who has never been better at ignoring him. Kyungsoo runs to the window and almost crashes into it. His hand flat against the glass and his nose pressed against it, he smiles at Jongin. Black, white, red. Jongin feels so proud, so happy, that Kyungsoo wears the colors he invented.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Kyungsoo asks.
“I promise,” Jongin said.
He has no idea what tomorrow means, but for sure it would be something he would love sharing with Kyungsoo. Jongin likes promising, anyway. It makes him sound so noble and brave, and it has people staring at him with that look he likes to see so much.
With one last look at each other, and absolutely no care for the window between them, Jongin and Kyungsoo say goodbye, and Jongin finally jump back into the Wind's arms. The West Wind is his favorite wind ever, because it's so excited to bring Jongin back to Neverland that they often beat the sunrise together. Of course, it is only because Jongin is the fastest little boy ever.
“What was it like?” he says, glancing at Tao. “Go in Kyungsoo's room, I mean?”
Tao glares at him, the mention of Kyungsoo's name lighting up his anger again, and with his arms crossed on his chest, he pouts at Jongin. Jongin doesn't need words -words, when they are needed, are never good words.
“What do you mean, it's like in the Mermaid's Lagoon?” he frowns.
Tao snorts and looks away.
“It looks pretty but it smells like fish?!” Jongin repeats, dumbfounded. Oh, never in his life has he felt so angry. “It doesn't smell like fish in the Mermaid's Lagoon,” he snaps back. “And I'll prove it to you!”
Neverland wakes up moody and foggy, and the pirates queasy as the strong waves make the ship pitch. The Indians don't leave the village, not even to hunt, and spend the day dancing around the totem pole, for the Sachem has said that the Gods were very angry, and Indians know better than ignoring angry Gods. The Lost Boys stay inside the tree house, and they decide to clean themselves. They brush each other's hairs, lick each other's ears and rub soft bellies, for they have forgotten that there's another skin under their costumes that would gladly meet warm water and soap.
Jongin, as for him, spends the day in the Lagoon, his arms crossed on his chest as he furiously breathes in. He's inhaling and exhaling so strongly that it creates a powerful tide, and to the mermaids's dismay, the strong current curl their long and straight hair. It's not a pleasant day for them, and they spend most of it cursing Jongin under their breath as they help each other pulling starfishes out of their bushy hair.
Jongin isn't sure why it is important anymore, but he's glad to notice that it doesn't smell like fish in the Lagoon. Oh, never in his life has he felt so happy.
Kyungsoo recoils at the sound of thunder. Wrapped in his blanket, he scoots closer to the window, his eyes widened by fear. An adult would have probably walked away from the window, but an adult wouldn't have Jongin sitting on the window ledge on the outside of their bedroom as well. Tao is huddled against Jongin's ankle, his tiny legs inside Jongin's shoe so they can stay warm and dry, and his wings wrapped around himself like a blanket. Fortunately for both Jongin and Kyungsoo, Tao feels too important being that close to Jongin to be angry at them. Fairies only live because children believe in them, and no one believes more than Jongin, which means that Tao's sparkles would make even the stars jealous, if they could glance down at them. How important and pretty he is right now, Tao thinks, and how lucky it is for the Moon that she can't see him! How sad would she be, he muses, meaning, of course, how happy would he be.
“Aren't you scared?” Kyungsoo whispers, and his voice could have easily drowned in the rain if he hadn't be an almost Lost Boy. You wouldn't understand it, but it really all comes down to frontiers and borders, between things you wouldn't think about. But let's not waste time trying to give meaning to the blank spaces between the words here, for stories are made to be enjoyed and not to have meaning.
“Of course not,” Jongin says. If he was scared, it's now over, because as the best storyteller in Neverland, Jongin knows only a bit of fear is needed for a good story, and he is willing to give it to Kyungsoo.
“I'm just a bit worried, because I can't hear it if pirates are firing cannons.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. He looks up ar the sky, frowning. “Do you think they'd come here?”
“Probably. But wouldn't that make a great adventure?”
Kyungsoo smiles, and through the darkness made even thicker by the stormy sky, the color of his lips is different. Jongin calls it red, and it's so beautiful, so precious, that it will surely annoy the mermaids and their boringly dark orange hair. There's another color spreading under Kyungsoo's eyes, like fairy wings on his cheekbones, and Jongin decides to call it violet. It could look like the dark blue taking over the sky, but it doesn't, and that's what make it so different.
Kyungsoo coughs and winces, and Jongin watches him silently, taking in the slight changes. He looks thinner, tired. Black is more black then ever, and Jongin had to reinvent white without remembering he already did before, because Kyungsoo's skin isn't like it used to be. In the back of the room, the numbers are still changing, still gleaming in the dark. Jongin sees right through time, for he is the best at sweeping aside meaningless matters, so he doesn't realize time is indeed passing by.
“Do you have a mom?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks.
Jongin shakes his head. He doesn't understand the question, doesn't know what a mom is, but he would never show it to Kyungsoo. He decides that, if he ever had a mom before, it wasn't that pleasant, and he obviously does much better without it.
“Really? So, who wraps a blanket around you when you're cold?”
“I'm never cold,” Jongin says, sticking out his chest. Tao nods knowingly. “I banished Cold from Neverland.”
“But when you're sick? Who takes care of you?”
“I'm never sick.”
Kyungsoo watches Jongin with so much admiration that the next thunder clap, although it has the window shake between, draws absolutely zero reaction from him. If Jongin is completely unaware of time passing by, Kyungsoo has been under its effect since the very first day. He doesn't remember it, for he has gained a few inches since that time, but he was crying a lot as a baby, because, like every boy and girl before, he first came into the world as a bird, so he was a bit wild. Time has been there since the very first second, changing things, stealing things, but Kyungsoo is perfectly aware of it. Not because of the numbers -those are the most adult things of adult things and Kyungsoo is too small, still too wild to grasp them- but because it shows in the number of times he has heard words such as sick and cold. Kyungsoo, in his very simple way, knows there are things to be envious of.
“Tomorrow is my birthday” Kyungsoo says, and for the very first time, he almost understands that tomorrow probably doesn't hold much meaning for Jongin. He doesn't feel it, but his toes gain a few millimeters because of the realization.
“What is a birthday?” Jongin asks, confused.
It doesn't sound like a nice word, and Jongin winces as it slips on the back of his tongue. He catches the numbers from the corner of his eyes. They look exactly like birthday would look if it was a thing and not a word, and it's just one of the reasons Jongin doesn't like it. Tao slips further into Jongin's shoe to hide his face, afraid. Fairies have so little time to live -but they're so small it seems almost eternal to them- so their survival instinct is very strong. So strong, actually, that it can't fit inside their bodies, and only appears when it's triggered by evil things, or evil words such as, you would have guessed it already, birthday.
“Well,” Kyungsoo thinks. What is a birthday really? “It means that instead of being six, I'll be seven, and that I will get to eat cake.”
Jongin makes a face.
“It doesn't sound funny at all,” he says. “You shouldn't have a birthday. I don't like it.”
Kyungsoo looks at him, confused.
“But I can't not have my birthday. Don't you have one as well?”
Jongin furiously shakes his head. Of course he doesn't. Why would he bring such evil thing to Neverland? He has Captain Hook to fight already, and Captain Hook has a body, at least. Birthday just has numbers that Jongin can't even reach.
“So you don't have presents?” Kyungsoo adds, a little bit saddened.
“I have presents whenever I want,” Jongin snaps back. “I don't need Birthday to tell me when I can have them.”
“But who gives them to you if you don't have a mom?”
It's a genuinely interested question, and Kyungsoo didn't mean no harm, but to Jongin, who, once again, sees the world in a much clearer way that you and I will ever do, it's like a dagger deep into his chest. He feels his body shrink, and Tao has to fly out of his shoe with scandalized chirruping because it has become too small for him. Thunder erupts, but it's probably pirates firing canons at him, because Jongin feels deeply hurt, and it's in his nature to refuse to give that power to mere words.
Kyungsoo seems to realize something is wrong, and he frowns as he scoots even closer to the window.
“Jongin?” he asks, worried.
“I don't want a birthday or a mom,” Jongin says. “And if you like them so much, then you can have them, but without me!”
Kyungsoo stares, mouth agape, and Jongin glares at him. Maybe he has experienced betrayal before, but Jongin has no recollection of it, and it feels like something he will never be able to get over-which isn't true, of course, because he has already gotten over it quite a few times before. He stands up on the window ledge, and kicks the Wind curling around his ankles. He doesn't want to play, and he doesn't need the Wind to fly, anyway. Behind him, Kyungsoo reaches out in a hurried attempt at stopping Jongin -because Jongin has given him all the fear and Kyungsoo can't face thunder alone- but his fingers crash against the window.
He blinks at the glass, flabbergasted. He had forgotten it was there. That is when Kyungsoo experiences unfairness for the very first time as treasure chests, maps and secret passages fail him, replaced by borders and frontiers. When he looks up, Jongin is already flying away, his shadow dangling under him, one hand holding Jongin's ankle, and the other waving at Kyungsoo.
There are few things sadder than the sight of Jongin flying away, because it's not just Jongin who's flying away, but words would fail to list everything. Kyungsoo, being small and still a bit wild, understands it all far better than you and I would. He starts crying when he realizes that thunder will conceal his sorrow, and as every children knows, if you don't hear it, it's not important.
The next day, Kyungsoo waits by the window, shivering but excited as he thinks about Jongin's face when he'll show him the shield he got for his birthday. Surely, he'll make a good Lost Boy now that he has one, and maybe Jongin will even let him fight against Captain Hook.
The thing is, Jongin doesn't come, and Kyungsoo, who has heard sick a few more times today, who is now seven instead of six and who does remember his first encounter with unfairness, goes back to sleep hugging his sword and shield. He's not worried about Jongin: as he closes his eyes, he can hear him laugh in the back of his mind and he knows he has gone back safely to Neverland.
Luckily, Kyungsoo doesn't have the words to explain his worries -because Kyungsoo doesn't read dictionaries yet- but he'll probably draw about it the day after. It would look like a window with bars, or a window without bars, but which can't be opened. Upon seeing the drawing, his mom would marvel at the perfect shape of the house Kyungsoo drew, but in the back of her head, she would remember of a long forgotten time when she became a mom for boys wearing fur and helped them for spring cleaning. She has read many dictionaries since that time though, and she has the most boring words to tell that, well, the iron bars are up for life and that there are no such things as second chances.
1| 2
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jongin/Kyungsoo
Wordcount: 16,450
Warning: please don't spoil yourself, i swear it's a sort of happy ending [Spoiler (click to open)]terminal disease, character death, and actually, if you read between the lines (don't) multiple character deaths
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME. Unbetaed. Any similarity with J.M Barrie's works is deliberate. Peter Pan belongs to J.M Barrie.
Notes: Title (obviously)comes from Peter Pan and Wendy.
Written for Kaisoo day. This fic has been in my wip folder for two years and a half now, it was about time that I finish it (although it gave me such a hard time). Please keep in mind that, although I tried very hard, I most surely didn't meet the perfection of J.M Barrie's writing. This is my very plain homage to this amazing writer.
Summary: All children except one grow up.
All children except one grow up. Jongin finds it rather delightful now that he thinks about it as he lazily swims along the North Wind -his new favorite wind ever. (Jongin's definition of forever is one of the most priceless treasure in the whole universe, but alas too precious to be put into words. All you have to know is that Jongin’s forever is a lot different from yours, therefore, he will have a new favorite wind ever tomorrow.)
Jongin has never liked rules but he enjoys playing with them until they break under his weight. This one was the funniest to mess up with -at least he decides it was- and it fills him with childish pride. He wants to remind the universe he is the exception so he bursts into a provocative laughter. Eyes disappearing into crescents, Jongin prints a giggling spin into the night sky and slowly forgets the reason for his mirth as the wind tries to whirl around faster than him. Jongin brushes away memories of rules without a frown and laughs a little louder because nobody else is in the streets underneath him. It makes him feel one of a kind -which he obliviously is- so he giggles even more.
Jongin’s chuckles fade away in the howling of the wind when he plunges towards the lights of the city. It’s the middle of winter but Jongin isn’t cold. Like he often tells the Lost Boys back in Neverland: when Cold first aimed to grab him, Jongin pushed Cold away with so much strength that Cold is now stuck in the North of the island. He could probably throw Cold out of Neverland in the blink of an eye but it wouldn’t be as funny as seeing Captain Hook’s fingers shake, all blue and rigid, when Jongin banishes the pirates’ ship.
There are plenty of stories about Jongin and Neverland, plenty of tales and legends, and Jongin likes the ones children who are supposed to sleep whisper in the dark of their room better than the ones adults tell as bedtime stories. Grown-ups’ choices of words are ridiculous: they use ‘hook’ when children say ‘the scary silver hand than can cut Mr Smee’s hair’ and Jongin agrees way more with that one. (Ask any of the Lost Boys: it’s definitely more of a scary silver hand that can cut Mr Smee’s hair than a hook.) Adults are sick with the weirdest disease of all: they love rules and reasoning and analyzing to the point that it gets ridiculous. Sometimes, Jongin thinks he should maybe pity them -pity is such a nice feeling that makes him feel so powerful each time he decides he’s going to pity Captain Hook- because the disease caused them to forget how to fly, but then he hears his name broken into complicated analysis and emblems and nothing ruins a good story more than frowning faces and contemplative eyes. And nothing makes Jongin angrier than a ruined story. Adults are the worst and there is nothing that Jongin loathes more-well for now, because he can’t think of anything else right now but there’s probably a list somewhere back in Neverland. Captain Hook has a scary silver hand that can cut Mr Smee’s hair and Neverland obeys Jongin because Jongin is stronger than Neverland, that’s it.
Jongin wrinkles his nose with disdain when he flies by a married couple’s window (“It’s time for her to grow up, darling, she’s too old to sleep with her younger brothers, she needs her own bedroom.”) but his eyes never leave the sparkling trail Tao's wings draw in the dark of the night. He knows the itinerary by heart but it’s better to let Tao lead the way, otherwise the tiny fairy would take offense and Jongin really hates it when Tao gets grumpy. Not to mention that Tao knows what time it is back in Neverland and it’s incredibly useful because Jongin needs to be back by dawn, so he can wake the Lost Boys up and proclaim the start of their new daily adventure. Jongin doesn’t remember it for now, but when he’ll suddenly urge Tao to tell him what time it is in Neverland that night, he’ll add proudly that it was such a great idea to bring Tao with him-like he does every night. That’s the thing about never growing up: too many memories mean too much experience and experience means wrinkles and a brain that needs to be bigger to remember everything.
But Jongin’s story can’t be told with adults’ words otherwise it’ll become a definition-dictionaries are awful books with even more awful pictures-so let”s say the reason why Jongin forgets so many things is only because Jongin wants to.
Jongin’s heart beats faster in his chest when he recognizes the house’s silhouette. Tao turns toward him and his tiny almond eyes seem to ask questions Jongin can’t read mostly because he isn’t looking at his companion. Adrenaline rushes in his veins faster than the wind slides against the curves of his body. He’s flying way too fast for insecurity to be able to grab a hold of him so there’s no fear or wondering in the depths of his eyes. They slow down when they reach the portal and Tao giggles when he sees the cocker spaniel rushing out of his doghouse. Jongin hears possibilities of fun in the dog’s growl more than threats so he catches Tao and shakes him above the doghouse. Tao pretends to be outraged as he crosses his arms on his chest and pouts at Jongin, but Jongin doesn’t miss the extra fairy dust that lands on the doghouse’s roof. The dog barks and Jongin hides his chuckles behind his hand as he catches his shadow raising the doghouse a couple of inches above the grass. The dog whines when the doghouse flies towards him and Jongin and Tao laugh as the cocker spaniel takes flight.
But Jongin doesn’t forget.
He releases Tao and pretends he doesn’t hear him grumble under his breath as the fairy smooths out the creases on his delicate outfit.
“Come on, Tao, it’s almost morning, we need to hurry!” Jongin hisses as he reaches out the side of the house. The first rays of sunshine won’t splatter dark canvas until several hours later but Jongin likes a little bit of danger in his adventure: it makes the Lost Boys gasp when he tells them everything. If adults’ words ruin stories, gasps make them better. Jongin knows it, because he is the best storyteller in the world. (Back in Neverland, there’s a saying that the Indian Sachem stopped telling stories for his people when he caught Jongin mimicking one of his most dangerous duels against Captain Hook.)
Jongin’s fingers grip the wind’s arms when he reaches the higher window and he uses the hold to stop himself right before he crashes through it. The wind hugs him tightly, caresses his body and cries in his ears, begging him to come back and play but Jongin brushes it off easily. Wind was there when Jongin banished Cold so Wind doesn’t insist and sadly goes back to scaring children by howling in chimneys. The north wind isn’t Jongin’s favorite thing ever anymore.
His eyes meet larger ones, thick eyelashes and pale forehead coming out of under dark bangs and Jongin’s mind finally finds peace.
He leans towards the window but stops a few centimeters away from the glass, like he always does. On the other side, a pale hand lands delicately on the cold surface and all Jongin’s mind seems to register is the space between the delicate fingers and the way his owns quiver with longing. He forgets everything about colors as his vision is filled with black -black hair, black bottomless eyes- and white -white skin, tiny white teeth biting on chapped lips- and Jongin wonders if the darkness sitting in the boy’s room is the same as the one he is currently covered with. The boy smiles and Jongin discovers a new color in the heart-shaped smile. It’s beautiful and it leaves burning marks in his eyes and mind, and Jongin is pretty sure Cold would hate that color. He decides to call it red and excitement keeps him from remembering the mermaids’ hair -red- Captain Hook’s jacket -red- and the color of his blood when he decides to get hurt to make his adventures better-red.
“Hi, Kyungsoo,” Jongin beams and Kyungsoo comes closer to the window, until his nose is pressed against the glass, just to make sure his voice reaches Jongin’s ears when he finally answers.
“Hi, Jongin.”
The sight is funny: the way Kyungsoo’s nose flattens against the window and how big his eyes are as he looks up to Jongin so Jongin laughs. Kyungsoo straightens up, wide orbs staring at him and Jongin wonders if Kyungsoo would look exactly the same if there was no window between them. He wonders how Kyungsoo smells, if the air he breathes is as tasty as the one Jongin breathes and if he is as pale as he seems to be. Jongin can’t take the risk because he knows he isn’t supposed to be there, he knows he’s not made to live in Kyungsoo’s world so this probably means Kyungsoo isn’t made to live in his. What if Jongin opens the window and Kyungsoo breaks in a million pieces because Jongin’s lungs release poison, what if Jongin grabs him by the hand to take him to Neverland and Kyungsoo withers? Jongin never feared death, he never feared Captain Hook and his silver hand that can cut Mr. Smee’s hair but he fears Kyungsoo’s disappearance so much.
“Hi, Tao,” Kyungsoo says, blinking down at Tao.
Tao sticks his tongue out at Kyungsoo, who chuckles. Jongin doesn't see anything that could justify the look of pleasure filling Kyungsoo's eyes. The only nice thing about Tao is the fact that he makes the perfect character for Jongin to save when he's getting bored and he wants a nice story. Maybe if he saved him now, Kyungsoo would look back at him. Congratulating himself for his amazing idea, Jongin sweeps Tao away with a flick of the wrist, and Tao falls off the window's ledge.
Kyungsoo gasps, clenching his tiny hands on the window, and Jongin feels ten feet tall. He hopes his clothes feel ten feet tall too, because Jongin doesn't want to rip them up.
Under Kyungsoo's eyes -black- Jongin dives into the night -black-, his hand stretched out before him. Tao is waiting for him a few inches above the ground, furiously beating his wings as he pouts. Jongin's fingers close around his tiny waist, and he spins around to fly back to the window. When he puts Tao on the ledge again, the latter is pouting and crossing his arms on his chest, but Jongin only sees gratefulness for having being saved. He beams proudly at Kyungsoo who claps, enthralled.
A grown up would have probably described Jongin as a jealous child ready to make his companions fall just for the sake of having Kyungsoo smile at him, and him only. But for the sake of the story, no grown up will tell it, as their minds lack the necessary width to talk about Jongin. He has been, after all, ten feet taller since Kyungsoo smiled at him.
Jongin is sitting on the great stump near the hole he shares with the Lost Boys, the back of his heels banging into the damp bark as he dangles his legs without thinking. His long fingers carefully hold delicate wooden pipes kept together by used strings. He doesn’t remember why it looks so damaged nor does he question it. There's no trace of a time when he didn’t know how to play and Jongin is actually more disposed to believe that he’s always known how to. His fingers find their spots immediately and he brings the panpipes closer to his lips, his mind already playing the melody his breath is about to set free. The lively notes dance in the air around him and Neverland quivers, itching to join the fairies’ bubbly bounces. There’s no sunset in Neverland, no clock ticking the last minutes of day away: night comes in the form of the dark blue blanket stars wrap themselves in when they gather to watch Jongin play panpipes.
Today was a great day that would turn into a beautiful story, and Jongin rewrites it with music. How he woke up this morning is already fading away from his mind, and he lets it go because he likes stories better than reality anyway. The panpipes’ sweet whistles travel all around Neverland and soon, the mermaids leave their rocks to dive deep into the sea, flamboyant hair waving behind them. A few miles away from there, Captain Hook is done taking care of the cut Jongin made with the tip of his dagger a couple of hours earlier, and decides that losing himself in rum is the perfect way to end this day. The Sachem, as for himself, allows the first smile of the day on his lips as all possible dangers die with the joyful melody. His wrinkles soften since there aren’t any assailant to confuse with the impenetrable map on his face anymore.
Jongin doesn’t play to conclude the day -Jongin has no sense of closure after all, he lives in a never-ending middle- but the day does end because he plays.
The notes fly just like Jongin does when his feet leave the ground: they spin in the air, plunge and then fly up higher above Jongin’s head. You probably can hear them giggling in the back of your mind when you fall asleep, because they are as elusive as Jongin is -and as proud as him to be so. A few steps away from the stump, the Fairy people are celebrating their favorite time of the day with joyful round circles. In the darkness of the night, their wings shine brighter than ever, so bright that their egos often double, and they gain a few centimeters. And as every fairy knows it: tastier berries are on the higher branches. Upon hearing his peers having fun, Tao flies out of the Lost Boys’s hole, delighted at the idea of the rainbow-colored berries filling up his belly. Before joining the other fairies though, he comes to a halt a few inches away from the wooden pipes, his wings tinkling as he remains hung up in the air above Jongin’s thighs. The breath that comes from Jongin’s lungs tastes like oxygen when it rushes into the panpipes; but where Tao is, on the other end of the pipes, it comes out as aerial pieces of carelessness, and Tao laughs as they ruffle through his hair.
The Lost Boys all pop out of the hole one by one, tiny fingers tickling when they have the occasion, and shoulders bumping, their chuckles not really discreet, but instead as excited as ever. Sehun is the first one to sit down at Jongin’s feet, his honey-colored hair hidden by the furry hood of his wolf suit. Jongdae is quick to join him on the ground, his finger playing with the tip of his fox suit’s tail. One by one, they all take place around Jongin’s stump before huddling together -not because they are cold but because they were once lost, and then found, and the affection that comes with it is as precious as Jongin’s definition of forever.
Just like Jongin’s song had no beginning, it has also no end, and if it wasn’t for Sehun raising his hand, Jongin would still be playing. He puts the panpipes down with a confident sparkle in his eyes as soon as Sehun’s questioning look lands on him. Every question born in Neverland has an answer already planted in Jongin’s mind, ready to be collected; and it also comes with marveled gasps from the Lost Boys, much to Jongin’s delight.
“Jongin,” Sehun begins. “What’s a Kyungsoo?"
Jongin hears a mocking laugh coming from behind his back and when he turns around, his eyes meet Tao’s laughing ones. The fairy is spread out on the grass at the edge of the woods, his lips covered with red juice and a pile of berries taller than himself next to him. The cheeky creature is watching Jongin with delight. That question wasn’t born in Neverland and as the only one allowed in the other world -other than Jongin himself- Tao knows it very well.
Jongin isn't used to anything, but in the intricate web of new memories he creates himself every day when he wakes up, he's even less used to ignorance. The Lost Boys are looking at him with patience, eager to hear his answer -because Jongin always knows everything- but Jongin's lips remain sealed. He does not wonder how Sehun came up with Kyungsoo's name, mostly because Jongin is a child and unlike adults, children don't ask useless questions; but also because Neverland is in Jongin's mind, just like Kyungsoo is, and Sehun probably met him in a dream or two.
Sehun blinks and Baekhyun slightly tilts his head. There's a thrill of excitement that settles somewhere in Jongin's belly, and it stretches out to caress his spin with long shivers of anticipation. What an adventure!, Jongin thinks as the questioning looks in the Lost Boys' eyes turn into enemies he has to fight. He has plenty of weapons ready and he chooses the best of all: stories. As he does that, somewhere in the world, maybe in the room next to yours, there's an adult who suddenly remembers how it was to be a child; and before they fade away, memories create a middle for a perfect new story in his mind. The adult will come up with a beginning and an ending -because grownups think once upon a times can only be because there are endings- and he will later tell all of that as a bedtime story. The story will travel all around the world and you will probably hear it as the time Jongin wrote the most beautiful poem ever created. To this day, Indians still quote it in their songs.
"Kyungsoo is a little boy," Jongin finally answers, his voice as musical as the panpipes' whistles were.
"Oh! Is he lost, too?" Minseok cries out with a jolt as one of his bunny ears fall on his face.
“No,” Jongin answers with a burst of inspiration. The moment it blooms in his mind, it becomes the truth, and Jongin scrunches up his nose in disgust. “Grown up don't want him to be lost, so they put him in a cage.”
The Lost Boys gasp, and even Neverland hisses in pure outrage. Somewhere outside the bay, on the pirates' boat, Capitain Hook startles as a wave breaks the peacefulness of the sea and floods the deck. Neverland isn't happy, he muses with a worried glance at the stars. They're frowning, crossing their arms on their tiny golden chests as they listen to Jongin's story. Captain Hook grumbles. More rum.
“Are there crocodiles in his cage?” Chanyeol asks from under its too large bear hood. Chanyeol used to be the tallest of them all, but Jongin didn't like it, and since then the bear suit has suddenly become larger. Now Chanyeol is tiny, almost as tiny as Tao.
Jongin nods knowingly, and Chanyeol covers his gasping mouth with his paws.
“And pirates?!” Jongdae asks.
“Pirates too,” Jongin confirms.
The Lost Boys exchange heavy look and angry pouts. None of them remembers how they got lost, or how Jongin found them. Jongin himself doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter. Adults would talk in whisper-like voices of tiny graves lying here and there in Kensington gardens, but you would quickly realize that it doesn't make sense at all. It would have meant goodbyes, but goodbyes mean forgetting, and Jongin never forgets the Lost Boys. The truth is, getting lost was their first adventure, and the most magnificent one. They all feel very sad for Kyungsoo.
“How is he?” Junmyeon asks, curious. He has the fluffiest fur, and even a little bit of mane on his hood, and he wonders if Kyungsoo is like him.
At that, Jongin remains wordless. Tao pulls his head out of the berry he was munching his way through, and he quirks an eyebrow at Jongin, mocking.
The truth is, Jongin has tried to know what Kyungsoo looks like. He has come back from the other world every morning and tried to make his own Kyungsoo. A little bit of star for his eyes, the mermaids' songs for his hair, and his favorite piece of cloud for Kyungsoo's skin, but it has never worked. It's frustrating, but not final. Jongin doesn't even know what final means. All he knows is that he's in that moment, in every adventure, when it feels like the story will be his last story, except that it never is.
“He looks like a Lost Boy who isn't lost,” Jongin snaps back at Junmyeon, annoyed.
The Lost Boys all nod all-knowingly. They all know what it looks like, like long hours spent playing in the cold, so cold snow for some of them, or blurry memories of the high water tower they used to climb up on for others, like the sudden, but fleeting knowledge that there was something before Neverland. Then it's all sadness again for Kyungsoo, who hasn't been found, because he hasn't been lost in the first place.
Neverland, now all black and white, black for Captain Hook's schemes for the following day, and white with the last ashes of the Indians' fires, curls around Jongin and the Lost Boys, shrinking so much that for a split second the mermaids find themselves forced to sit on the same rock, hissing with outrage. Neverland's borders, which touch the clouds and everything that isn't Neverland, are the most curious parts of Neverland, the most audacious, and it's because they want to whisper in Jongin's ear that they have to get closer and make Neverland smaller than Jongin's head. Fortunately for everyone in Neverland, Jongin's head happens to be larger than what it seems.
Tilting his head, Jongin listens to the voice only he can understand, and that's how Neverland's borders remind him of another black, another white, and even another color that hasn't been named yet. Was it really Neverland's idea? Or Jongin's idea? Who knows, for Neverland happens to be in Jongin's mind, and Jongin happens to be in Neverland. Jongin thinks it's a great idea though, and like every great idea, it is one that came from him, so he puts away the wooden pipes and jumps back on his feet.
“Are you going to see if he's finally lost?” Sehun asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Neverland's borders are also shaking with the same excitement, and Jongin himself feels his toes rise a few inches from the ground.
“I'm going on an adventure,” he states, and the Lost Boys screech, delighted. Adventure means another story, and it's all that matters for them. They have, after all, four ears, don't they?
Jongin grabs Tao by his skinny ankle and shakes him so the fairy will shrink back to his usual size. Tao blushes with anger and embarrassment, and the barks of laughter the Lost Boys let out when he loses his hat are enough to cut his ego in two. He pulls his leg away and glares at Jongin, chirping with anger, but he chokes on the affront when Jongin hands him back his hat, the prettiest red spreading on his cheekbones. Jongin doesn't see it as red though. He sees it like Captain Hook's jacket, or some of the mermaids' curly hair. Red is different, red is in another world.
“Let's go!” Jongin says.
And then he takes off, to red, to places Neverland's borders can only imagine. Behind him, a dark veil falls on the island, and everything stops living, stops breathing. Neverland isn't quite Neverland when Jongin isn't there. Thankfully, Jongin never forgets the key, so that no one can enter Neverland while he's gone. It would be a catastrophe, could you imagine adults wandering and labeling everything with those annoying tiny little words they like to lock in dictionaries? It is very lucky, to be honest, that Jongin doesn't like grown ups, because where would the Lost Boys go if they were to remember their names and stop being lost?
Jongin doesn't like the other world a bit. He doesn't like geometrical shaped streets, he doesn't like the sometimes round, sometimes straight signs everywhere, and he loathes even more how people look at them, as if they made sense. Maybe it should make sense for him as well, maybe it once did, and the feeling crawls under his skin, and makes him uncomfortable. It brings back memories of warm arms and fond whispers, but also anger and heartbreaks. Jongin doesn't like memories, he doesn't have none. He sweeps those away, exiling them in the north of Neverland, with Cold, and the following second, he's laughing at the top of his lungs as he swoops down on this new world, Tao following suit.
Jongin loves the other world, because he doesn't know it, and everything feels like an adventure to him. It gives him the best stories to tell, like that time he fought with one of the big metallic machines that spit light and roar like thunder. Or maybe it was today. Or just now. Jongin hops from one street lamp to another, boasting about his victory against the monster. Don't roll your eyes at him, for Jongin has understood that order and logical don't sit well with story telling. No story needs to have truly happened before it is told to be great, for it always happens in the mind of the children after anyway. Jongin isn't sure how many times Rapunzel cut her hair to save her friend, but he can assure you it has happened quite a lot.
He forgets all about Rapunzel when he spots the familiar house though. Familiarity is such a weird thing to feel when you don't know what it is, but Jongin doesn't frown at the feeling of expectation swelling in his chest. He glances at Tao, and decides it will be worth it only if he gets there first. He grips the northern wind's back, and chuckles when the latter yaws and propels him straight against the house's wall. He hits his knee, and rushes to check if there's a bruise already. As he hopes to see one, for the sake of the story, the prettiest blue and purple bloom on his skin, and Jongin considers it with pride. Luckily, he survived, but that's only because of how brave and strong he is.
Tao stops above his knees, his lips curling into a pout as he points at the blood dripping on Jongin's skin. (But it's not red, it's not red.)
“It's okay,” Jongin reassures him with a brave nod. “I'll be fine, I'm stronger than that.”
Tao sniffs, his tiny eyes glistening with tears larger than his fists. Jongin pats Tao's head with his index finger to cheer him up.
“Jongin? Jongin, is that you?”
Jongin's face breaks into a huge grin. He jumps over thin air, high-fives a lazy wind that was just flying by, and crouches down on the window ledge. Black and white welcome him, the black of a little boy's room, the white of the silver light going through the window. Black hair, lashes and eyes, white skin and teeth, and, of course, there's also--
“Hi Kyungsoo,” Jongin announces before adding proudly, “I just invented red.”
The boy chuckles softly before nodding and Jongin turns towards Tao to see if the fairy is as excited as he is -because he’s pretty sure he just discovered the most precious treasure- but Tao looks particularly unimpressed. Jongin shrugs it away. Tao is a fairy and fairies are way to tiny to contain more than one feeling -and right now, it’s obviously disinterest as Tao taps his foot on the window ledge, his arms crossed on his chest.
Kyungsoo looks at the fairy with a faint pout.
“Is he sulking?”
Jongin shakes his head.
“Fairies can't sulk. They can't remember a thing and be mad about it at the same time.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo blinks. “Of course.”
Tao, though, is very bad-tempered, and although he can't remember why he's annoyed, he guesses there's a reason, so he keeps glaring at them both, his eyes even hardening on Kyungsoo when the latter chuckles.
“He's really cute,” Kyungsoo says.
“No he's not,” Jongin pouts. “He's mean and he eats too many berries.”
“I like berries,” Kyungsoo says dreamily, and that does it for Jongin.
He straightens and beams at Kyungsoo.
“I could pick some from Neverland for you,” he says, delighted. “You'd like them!”
Kyungsoo nods. “I'm sure I would.”
In the back of Jongin's head, a new Neverland slowly surfaces, exactly like every Neverland before, because it is made of Jongin, but this one is also made of Kyungsoo, or at least the forest is, because hundred of berries of different shades, shapes and tastes, are now weighing on the branches, so much that they're now touching the ground.
“I was waiting for you,” Kyungsoo says. “Look what my mom gave to me.”
Jongin watches, mesmerized, as Kyungsoo moves away from the window. For a split second, the darkness of his room engulfs him, and the only things Jongin can catch through the heavy velvet of the night are the bright numbers in the back of Kyungsoo's room. They're staring back at Jongin, mocking, and trying to fool him into thinking they're red. Jongin is too clever though, he was the one who invented red after all, and, although he does not have the words to pinpoint them, the differences are clear in his mind. Putting words on everything is a grownup disease, and Jongin is very careful not to catch it, so he keeps his mouth close, but still glares at the numbers. One of them changes, from three to four, and Jongin frowns at its cockiness.
“It's a sword,” Kyungsoo says as he walks back to the window, fighting away the shadows desperately trying to eat him. Jongin isn't surprised though. Kyungsoo is a not-totally-lost Boy, and Lost Boys are only afraid of the things Jongin tells them to fear.
Kyungsoo sits back on the window ledge, and presses a sword, a bit longer than his arm, against the window.
“Will it be useful against the pirates in Neverland?”
Jongin bites his lips, considers the weapon under Kyungsoo's nervous frown. Tao's mocking chuckles as he rolls on the window ledge, his hands clenching on his stomach have him lower his eyes with disappointment. Jongin clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he knocks Tao away with a flick.
“Yes,” he nods. “It's a good sword.”
Kyungsoo's face lightens up. He checks his own sword, his tiny fingers poking the end of it, and looks at Jongin again.
“Is it sharp enough?”
Jongin leans in, his face inches from the window. His breath collapses against the glass in hazy clouds, but Jongin still sees clearly through them, just like he sees clearly through the rounded plastic point of the sword. He sees it as it would be if they were heroes in a story, fighting against pirates, because they are, they definitely are.
“It is,” he says. “Even sharper than Captain Hook's sword. Though, he never managed to touch me with it anyway.”
Kyungsoo's eyes fills with admiration. His elbow hits the window with a low bump as he scouts closer to it, but none of them pay attention to it. It's an explorer thing after all- not stopping at the map's edges, not caring about the borders.
Jongin taps the little dagger on his belt, and rules bend under his weight like they have always done, so that both he and Kyungsoo consider the tiny barely pointy knife as the most deathly weapon ever seen.
“The most important isn't how long your sword is,” Jongin explains. “It's how you use it. Do you know how to fight with a sword?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head, but there's no sadness or shame in his eyes. Just like Jongin, he knows how to recognize the start of an adventure. It's not about explorers this time, but about boys who are brave enough to pause, consider something and think : “well, isn't that the start of an adventure?” and hop into it even if it means loosing themselves.
“I can teach you,” Jongin says, a little breathless. (What an adventure!)
“How?” Kyungsoo answers.
He's one inch from loosing himself, one step, one heartbeat. Jongin has no recollection of previous victories against evil, or what he chose as evil, but winning is something he's used to, he decides. Even though habits are hard to obtain, hard to remember, there's something in the gleam inside Kyungsoo's eyes that reminds him of Cold running away from Neverland, or Captain Hook drowning in rum, or how all children except one grow up. Victories.
“Let me in,” Jongin says. “And I'll show you.”
Kyungsoo bites his lips, considers the window -frontier. Even Tao stops chirping mocking fairy words at Kyungsoo to open his eyes wide and large. It doesn't suit him, and Tao is usually quick to remember what makes him look at his best, but the surprise filling him is so intense that there's no room for anything else. Kyungsoo's eyes meet Jongin, and somewhere after the second star to the right, Neverland withers for a split second, because Jongin realizes that if that window were to be opened, he'd win. He knows though that he shouldn't be here, that this isn't his mission. Tiny invisible graves flash in his mind, and he almost understands, he almost remembers what he's supposed to do, why the Lost Boys are lost, why he doesn't grow up. He almost does, actually. He almost grows up, because nothing kills a story like reading between the lines. Fortunately though, Jongin forgets what he deems to be meaningless, and right now, nothing could be as important as Kyungsoo's fingers, so Neverland goes back to sleep, Tao goes back to breathing, and Jongin goes back to being Jongin, with all that it implies.
Kyungsoo opens the window, slowly, his eyes glancing now and then at the darkness behind him, and the bright numbers. Jongin looks down, his shadow waiting for the gap to be wider so it can hop into Kyungsoo's room, but Kyungsoo stops.
“I can't,” he says. “My mom said I shouldn't open the window. She said it's too cold outside.”
Jongin frowns.
“It's not cold,” he argues. “And even if it was, I could make it warm for you.”
Kyungsoo looks like he's considering it again, but he finally shakes his head.
“I can't,” he repeats. “I could get sick. I can never go out.”
Anger suddenly floods Jongin, like it has never done so before, or like it has done a billion of times already. Jongin clenches his wrists, and glares at Kyungsoo, at the darkness and at the numbers which keep mocking him. He doesn't like closed windows, they remind him of bars and warm arms wrapped around a baby boy while tiny fists hit the window. Closed windows are like nevers and never is an awfully long time.
Seized by his jealousy and his anger, Jongin grabs Tao and pushes him inside Kyungsoo's room. The fairy, who still hadn't grown back to his normal size after Neverland had almost died, slips easily in the space, and soon his golden halo breaks the darkness of Kyungsoo's room. Jongin takes great pleasure in seeing the numbers shy away from the light and grow pale.
Kyungsoo yelps, his eyes widening as Tao draws angry sparkling trails all around him. Jongin laughs, Neverland breathes in so deep that Captain Hook falls off his bed, and maybe your shoulders suddenly itch as though they were remembering of a time when they had wings attached to them, wings so strong you could fly.
“A fairy!” Kyungsoo cries out. He raises his arms above his head, fingers clenching on thin air as he tries to catch a still infuriated Tao. “There's a fairy in my room!”
He's dancing, jumping all around his room, bouncing on his bed, hoping up and down behind Tao, and Neverland slips into his room. The panpipes melodies, the Indian Sachem and the wrinkles mapping the corners of his eyes, Captain Hook and his silver hand that can cut Mr. Smee's hair, and the Mermaids brushing their hair with shells. Kyungsoo's world and Jongin's collide, they merge, they mix, for the very first time, and it's another victory for Jongin. He can see it, just like he can see through condensation and toys, the soft and silky polecat's costume on Kyungsoo.
Rules are like nevers though, they have bars and they're more than often closed. The pale numbers flicker, the four of them change, and Tao finds back his way out of Kyungsoo's room. His wings furiously beat the air around him, and he shakes his tiny fist as Jongin, who has never been better at ignoring him. Kyungsoo runs to the window and almost crashes into it. His hand flat against the glass and his nose pressed against it, he smiles at Jongin. Black, white, red. Jongin feels so proud, so happy, that Kyungsoo wears the colors he invented.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Kyungsoo asks.
“I promise,” Jongin said.
He has no idea what tomorrow means, but for sure it would be something he would love sharing with Kyungsoo. Jongin likes promising, anyway. It makes him sound so noble and brave, and it has people staring at him with that look he likes to see so much.
With one last look at each other, and absolutely no care for the window between them, Jongin and Kyungsoo say goodbye, and Jongin finally jump back into the Wind's arms. The West Wind is his favorite wind ever, because it's so excited to bring Jongin back to Neverland that they often beat the sunrise together. Of course, it is only because Jongin is the fastest little boy ever.
“What was it like?” he says, glancing at Tao. “Go in Kyungsoo's room, I mean?”
Tao glares at him, the mention of Kyungsoo's name lighting up his anger again, and with his arms crossed on his chest, he pouts at Jongin. Jongin doesn't need words -words, when they are needed, are never good words.
“What do you mean, it's like in the Mermaid's Lagoon?” he frowns.
Tao snorts and looks away.
“It looks pretty but it smells like fish?!” Jongin repeats, dumbfounded. Oh, never in his life has he felt so angry. “It doesn't smell like fish in the Mermaid's Lagoon,” he snaps back. “And I'll prove it to you!”
Neverland wakes up moody and foggy, and the pirates queasy as the strong waves make the ship pitch. The Indians don't leave the village, not even to hunt, and spend the day dancing around the totem pole, for the Sachem has said that the Gods were very angry, and Indians know better than ignoring angry Gods. The Lost Boys stay inside the tree house, and they decide to clean themselves. They brush each other's hairs, lick each other's ears and rub soft bellies, for they have forgotten that there's another skin under their costumes that would gladly meet warm water and soap.
Jongin, as for him, spends the day in the Lagoon, his arms crossed on his chest as he furiously breathes in. He's inhaling and exhaling so strongly that it creates a powerful tide, and to the mermaids's dismay, the strong current curl their long and straight hair. It's not a pleasant day for them, and they spend most of it cursing Jongin under their breath as they help each other pulling starfishes out of their bushy hair.
Jongin isn't sure why it is important anymore, but he's glad to notice that it doesn't smell like fish in the Lagoon. Oh, never in his life has he felt so happy.
Kyungsoo recoils at the sound of thunder. Wrapped in his blanket, he scoots closer to the window, his eyes widened by fear. An adult would have probably walked away from the window, but an adult wouldn't have Jongin sitting on the window ledge on the outside of their bedroom as well. Tao is huddled against Jongin's ankle, his tiny legs inside Jongin's shoe so they can stay warm and dry, and his wings wrapped around himself like a blanket. Fortunately for both Jongin and Kyungsoo, Tao feels too important being that close to Jongin to be angry at them. Fairies only live because children believe in them, and no one believes more than Jongin, which means that Tao's sparkles would make even the stars jealous, if they could glance down at them. How important and pretty he is right now, Tao thinks, and how lucky it is for the Moon that she can't see him! How sad would she be, he muses, meaning, of course, how happy would he be.
“Aren't you scared?” Kyungsoo whispers, and his voice could have easily drowned in the rain if he hadn't be an almost Lost Boy. You wouldn't understand it, but it really all comes down to frontiers and borders, between things you wouldn't think about. But let's not waste time trying to give meaning to the blank spaces between the words here, for stories are made to be enjoyed and not to have meaning.
“Of course not,” Jongin says. If he was scared, it's now over, because as the best storyteller in Neverland, Jongin knows only a bit of fear is needed for a good story, and he is willing to give it to Kyungsoo.
“I'm just a bit worried, because I can't hear it if pirates are firing cannons.”
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says. He looks up ar the sky, frowning. “Do you think they'd come here?”
“Probably. But wouldn't that make a great adventure?”
Kyungsoo smiles, and through the darkness made even thicker by the stormy sky, the color of his lips is different. Jongin calls it red, and it's so beautiful, so precious, that it will surely annoy the mermaids and their boringly dark orange hair. There's another color spreading under Kyungsoo's eyes, like fairy wings on his cheekbones, and Jongin decides to call it violet. It could look like the dark blue taking over the sky, but it doesn't, and that's what make it so different.
Kyungsoo coughs and winces, and Jongin watches him silently, taking in the slight changes. He looks thinner, tired. Black is more black then ever, and Jongin had to reinvent white without remembering he already did before, because Kyungsoo's skin isn't like it used to be. In the back of the room, the numbers are still changing, still gleaming in the dark. Jongin sees right through time, for he is the best at sweeping aside meaningless matters, so he doesn't realize time is indeed passing by.
“Do you have a mom?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks.
Jongin shakes his head. He doesn't understand the question, doesn't know what a mom is, but he would never show it to Kyungsoo. He decides that, if he ever had a mom before, it wasn't that pleasant, and he obviously does much better without it.
“Really? So, who wraps a blanket around you when you're cold?”
“I'm never cold,” Jongin says, sticking out his chest. Tao nods knowingly. “I banished Cold from Neverland.”
“But when you're sick? Who takes care of you?”
“I'm never sick.”
Kyungsoo watches Jongin with so much admiration that the next thunder clap, although it has the window shake between, draws absolutely zero reaction from him. If Jongin is completely unaware of time passing by, Kyungsoo has been under its effect since the very first day. He doesn't remember it, for he has gained a few inches since that time, but he was crying a lot as a baby, because, like every boy and girl before, he first came into the world as a bird, so he was a bit wild. Time has been there since the very first second, changing things, stealing things, but Kyungsoo is perfectly aware of it. Not because of the numbers -those are the most adult things of adult things and Kyungsoo is too small, still too wild to grasp them- but because it shows in the number of times he has heard words such as sick and cold. Kyungsoo, in his very simple way, knows there are things to be envious of.
“Tomorrow is my birthday” Kyungsoo says, and for the very first time, he almost understands that tomorrow probably doesn't hold much meaning for Jongin. He doesn't feel it, but his toes gain a few millimeters because of the realization.
“What is a birthday?” Jongin asks, confused.
It doesn't sound like a nice word, and Jongin winces as it slips on the back of his tongue. He catches the numbers from the corner of his eyes. They look exactly like birthday would look if it was a thing and not a word, and it's just one of the reasons Jongin doesn't like it. Tao slips further into Jongin's shoe to hide his face, afraid. Fairies have so little time to live -but they're so small it seems almost eternal to them- so their survival instinct is very strong. So strong, actually, that it can't fit inside their bodies, and only appears when it's triggered by evil things, or evil words such as, you would have guessed it already, birthday.
“Well,” Kyungsoo thinks. What is a birthday really? “It means that instead of being six, I'll be seven, and that I will get to eat cake.”
Jongin makes a face.
“It doesn't sound funny at all,” he says. “You shouldn't have a birthday. I don't like it.”
Kyungsoo looks at him, confused.
“But I can't not have my birthday. Don't you have one as well?”
Jongin furiously shakes his head. Of course he doesn't. Why would he bring such evil thing to Neverland? He has Captain Hook to fight already, and Captain Hook has a body, at least. Birthday just has numbers that Jongin can't even reach.
“So you don't have presents?” Kyungsoo adds, a little bit saddened.
“I have presents whenever I want,” Jongin snaps back. “I don't need Birthday to tell me when I can have them.”
“But who gives them to you if you don't have a mom?”
It's a genuinely interested question, and Kyungsoo didn't mean no harm, but to Jongin, who, once again, sees the world in a much clearer way that you and I will ever do, it's like a dagger deep into his chest. He feels his body shrink, and Tao has to fly out of his shoe with scandalized chirruping because it has become too small for him. Thunder erupts, but it's probably pirates firing canons at him, because Jongin feels deeply hurt, and it's in his nature to refuse to give that power to mere words.
Kyungsoo seems to realize something is wrong, and he frowns as he scoots even closer to the window.
“Jongin?” he asks, worried.
“I don't want a birthday or a mom,” Jongin says. “And if you like them so much, then you can have them, but without me!”
Kyungsoo stares, mouth agape, and Jongin glares at him. Maybe he has experienced betrayal before, but Jongin has no recollection of it, and it feels like something he will never be able to get over-which isn't true, of course, because he has already gotten over it quite a few times before. He stands up on the window ledge, and kicks the Wind curling around his ankles. He doesn't want to play, and he doesn't need the Wind to fly, anyway. Behind him, Kyungsoo reaches out in a hurried attempt at stopping Jongin -because Jongin has given him all the fear and Kyungsoo can't face thunder alone- but his fingers crash against the window.
He blinks at the glass, flabbergasted. He had forgotten it was there. That is when Kyungsoo experiences unfairness for the very first time as treasure chests, maps and secret passages fail him, replaced by borders and frontiers. When he looks up, Jongin is already flying away, his shadow dangling under him, one hand holding Jongin's ankle, and the other waving at Kyungsoo.
There are few things sadder than the sight of Jongin flying away, because it's not just Jongin who's flying away, but words would fail to list everything. Kyungsoo, being small and still a bit wild, understands it all far better than you and I would. He starts crying when he realizes that thunder will conceal his sorrow, and as every children knows, if you don't hear it, it's not important.
The next day, Kyungsoo waits by the window, shivering but excited as he thinks about Jongin's face when he'll show him the shield he got for his birthday. Surely, he'll make a good Lost Boy now that he has one, and maybe Jongin will even let him fight against Captain Hook.
The thing is, Jongin doesn't come, and Kyungsoo, who has heard sick a few more times today, who is now seven instead of six and who does remember his first encounter with unfairness, goes back to sleep hugging his sword and shield. He's not worried about Jongin: as he closes his eyes, he can hear him laugh in the back of his mind and he knows he has gone back safely to Neverland.
Luckily, Kyungsoo doesn't have the words to explain his worries -because Kyungsoo doesn't read dictionaries yet- but he'll probably draw about it the day after. It would look like a window with bars, or a window without bars, but which can't be opened. Upon seeing the drawing, his mom would marvel at the perfect shape of the house Kyungsoo drew, but in the back of her head, she would remember of a long forgotten time when she became a mom for boys wearing fur and helped them for spring cleaning. She has read many dictionaries since that time though, and she has the most boring words to tell that, well, the iron bars are up for life and that there are no such things as second chances.
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