brightwin AUs

27: Peter Pan (4)

"B, are you busy? You're not answering my calls that much."

"I am, we have a contemporary music portfolio to finish."

"You sound tired, maybe I'll just tell you what happened on my date some other time."

"I'm tired, Win. I'm hanging up."

Like the scene that they both witnessed a hundred times, Captain Hook was on his heels as the crocodile chases to eat him alive. It was Neverland--the depiction of where their age stayed and their dreams are right in front of their eyes yet their nightmares are thrown into every corner if they looked away for a moment.

But each motion that Captain Hook makes is fueled by his fear as he is reminded of what his other arm has endured when he looks at the silver hook. The crocodile never catches him that time anyway.

Maybe then the crocodile would never get the chance to catch him; but Captain Hook knows he would never get his other arm back even then.

And like it, Bright knows the moment their eyes met that no amount of words could erase the pain that Win's eyes told him from their mere distance.

"You're the asshole." It was short but the heaviest phrase he's ever received.

Another song was playing now yet not a single trace of defense came from Bright's side.

"What? You can't curl your tongue to talk anymore?" Win tested even if his eyes demanded for a narrative amounting to eight years of pent up anger and what ifs.

But like Peter when he visits Mrs. Darling through the children's window as the woman awaits for Wendy and her sons to come back home; he remained static and void of anything to say.

"You're not only an asshole but a coward. I should have known it was you all along when the world was basically warning me."

"Win," Bright started in an instant when the mere inch separating them grew further.

"Don't," was the only word that Bright heard but he didn't want to acknowledge it.

Not when his mind ran with infinite frames of the last time he saw Win and how the younger boy didn't stand a chance to comprehend the way things are going to end for them.

"You're not walking away from me." Bright was quick to step around the passive motion of his old friend, stopping him just before he could go back inside the dim lit bar.

"The fuck I am," Win continued in harsh steps as he sidetracked Bright on his way. "You're not the only one who could do that."

"Win--"

"Say my name one more time and I'm throwing this drink on you."

"Metawin!"

"B!"

Both boys paused, staggered breaths leaving their mouth with a tender burn of the familiar names they used to call each other. The nostalgia rising to the very tip of every memory core they tried to bury away.

Win pressed his mouth in a thin line because he knew he couldn't take it back anyway. It always just felt too familiar with Bright that no years could erase the habits he has lived with the only friend he's grown with. The one word name he hasn't said in years brought a sense of relief, anger and pent up longing that he was too tired to fight.

"Stay," Such a strong word yet Bright couldn't do it back then.

"What for? What else is there to stay for?" Win riddled back as the glass rattled in his hold.