WARNING!!! - Mention of alcohol abuse, physical abuse, and suicidal tendencies. Do not read if that is a trigger.

    You had never been happier than the day you had been stolen from your own home in nothing but your tattered pajamas and dropped off on a mysterious island, later to be named Neverland.

    You loved fighting with the Lost Boys, it was better than fighting with your parents. You loved caring for the younger ones and their wounds, rather than the ones your family gave you. You enjoyed helping whenever you could around the island, instead of being forced into slavery by the beasts that created you. You even enjoyed their frightful leader, no matter how mean and cruel he could be because there was no way he could be worse than your parents.

    The night of your arrival, the boys threw a party for you. It was a bonfire, with music playing and the boys dancing. Surprisingly, you even dared to get up and dance with a lot of them. You played games and ate food, also having some time to relax and stargaze. But, no matter how great the island was, there was one thing you could not stand.

    The booze. The older kids had brought out all kinds of alcoholic beverages; vodka, tequila, wine, beer, daiquiris, pina colada's, martinis, everything. You didn't know where they got it, but the minute they did, you knew you wouldn't stick around long.

    They got it out after all of the little ones had gone to bed. You made sure of it too, going around the camp to make sure there were no little ones just sitting around somewhere. You couldn't bear to know a little kid was watching these drunk, older males partying and having their fun.

    Once you could tell that the boys were considerably drunk and that there were no little kids around, you went back to your own tent and zipped it up tightly. You tried to go to sleep, but the most you could do was doze off for ten or fifteen minutes before waking up with a jolt thinking that one of the boys had made their way back to your tent.

    You woke up incredibly exhausted the next morning, with most of the older ones thinking you had a hangover or something, even though they never saw you drink. And you never did. You could never stoop down to that level, oh no, not after the incidents.

    This happened at every party since then that they had on the island. You would stick around until all of the little ones had gone to sleep and then you would go to bed yourself. A few of your friends, like Felix and Devin, would always try to convince you to stick around, but you never would. You would go back to your tent for sleepless nights similar to the ones back home.

    The worst drunk out of all of them would always be Peter. He was a very loud drunk, and it gave his ego an extra boost that it definitely didn't need. He was even cockier and more self-centered, and on some nights, he would make it harder for you to leave. He would grab you, pulling you close to him as he whispered compliments in your ear, but you couldn't take it. The smell of liquor stank his every breath, and his actions sent horrible flashbacks. You would push him off and run, knowing he would never follow after you.

    After every encounter, you would get more and more pissed off at him, and it would cause you to be more and more irritable every day. You couldn't stand how he, or any of them, acted. And every night, you would get less and less sleep. At first, you thought it was a one-time thing, but it happened more often than you wanted it to on the island. You enjoyed every day on it, of course, but the nights were always a toss-up.

    Felix, being your best friend, had noticed the change in your attitude. He tried asking you about it, but you quickly shut him down anytime he brought it up. You were unwilling to talk about it with anybody, even if it was your best friend.

    After you shut him down, Felix told Pan about his worries. He had been noticing it too, but he wasn't sure if he was just making up something to cause him worry. But Felix had confirmed it; something was indeed wrong with you.

    Once he knew, he started looking for any way to get you alone. He tried sending you off on odd chores, giving you hints that you should relax, even trying to get Felix to help him. But nothing worked. You were too blunt to understand what he was trying to say. So, he finally had to come up and just ask you to leave with him. And of course, you just smiled a small, almost sad smile, got up, and followed him into the forest.

    When the two of you were out of earshot from the other boys, he started asking questions. "What's been up with you lately? You haven't seemed like yourself..."

    You scoffed and rolled your eyes at your ruthless leader. "You boys are so irritating when you get drunk, did you know that?" you asked rudely, the small smile you had earlier replaced by a foul grimace.

    "Woah, hold on, I just asked you a simple question, no need to get feisty with me," he said, his usual arrogance coming back to him as he smirked condescendingly at you.

    "No need to get feisty?! Pan, you know my name, not my story. You see my smile, not my pain. You notice my cuts, not my scars. You can read my lips, not my mind." you glared, and for a second, he almost looked heartbroken. You had never called him Pan before, always Peter, and at most when you were angry, Peter Pan.

    "Hey, it's Peter to you!" he called after you, trying to regain some confidence after the strike to his ego.

    "Oh yes, I remember, it's always about Peter Pan! It's not like you didn't just ask me about why I'm so short-tempered all of the time! It's not like I've barely been able to sleep a wink on this godforsaken island because the 'Drunk Boys' are roaming and lurking around every corner, and you flirting with that horrid smell of liquor on your breath! It's not like my parents weren't drunks who abused me all of the time and basically made me their slave to wait on them hand and foot! But yes Pan, tell me about how badly calling you Pan over Peter breaks your cold, dead, emotionless heart." you seethed, basically growling your words.

    Peter was taken aback by your sudden outburst. While he listened to your words, he found his eyes wandering down to your arms, where he finally noticed the cuts that ran up and down the otherwise smooth skin. Some were old and fading; others were new and bright red. The sight brought tears to his eyes that threatened to spill.

    "W-what...? D-don't say things like that, (Y/N), i-it's scaring me..." he trailed off, stuttering out his words while reaching out to you as he tried to contain himself. He was Peter Pan, for goodness sake, he wasn't allowed to be crying and vulnerable.

    "Here we go back to you! You're just a little scared by the fact that someone could have problems and actual feelings and so now I have to hide everything from you because you can't handle it!" you yelled again.

    Suddenly, out of nowhere, he pressed his lips against your own. The action took you by surprise, but you let yourself melt into it, your lips molding together as you experienced a high you never had before.

    "P-please, I-I'm scared of losing you..." he trailed off once you finally broke apart to breathe. You smiled softly at him before burying yourself in his arms. He sighed, relaxing as he held you tightly, littering the top of your head in sweet kisses.

    However, you felt wrong about the situation. You felt terrific, lying in Peter's arms, his soft lips brushing against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, but how could you trust him? He knew nothing about you or your past, no resolution had even been made to help you, he just wanted you to stop talking. You weren't even sure if that counted as a confession, he could only think of you as a very close friend. And if your parents couldn't even love you, then who else could?

    No matter how much it pained you, you pulled yourself away from the boy with whom you found yourself falling in love. You looked him square in the eyes before whispering a cold, barely audible

    "You don't know me, Pan."

    You quickly ran away, trying to get as far from anyone as you could before the tears started to fall. You could also hear the pain in his voice as he called after you, his voice getting softer and softer every time.

    You knew he was hurting now, but better he hurt a little now than you hurt a lot later.
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Hm, should there be a part two? If so, what should happen to poor Pan and our distressed reader? Let me know in the comments :) Also, if you have any other one-shot ideas, leave them there or feel free to PM me.