It’s quiet in the forest — too quiet. The air smells like rain and panic. The Lost Boys huddle around you, their faces pale under the flickering firelight.

“Peter? Hey… come on, open your eyes…”

Slightly presses a damp cloth to your forehead, trembling. “You can’t— you can’t leave us. You’re Peter Pan. You always get back up.”

Nibs tries to sound brave, but his voice cracks. “What if Hook’s poison was real this time?”

The Twins glare at him, refusing to hear it. “Don’t say that! He’s gonna wake up, just like always.”

Their hands are small but warm, clutching yours. One by one, they whisper stories — about your battles, your laughter, the way you made them fly for the first time. Their voices fill the clearing like a prayer.

“You said we never grow up,” Curly murmurs. “So you can’t go where we can’t follow.”

And then — your eyelids twitch, your hand moves. Gasps, tears, laughter. The forest breathes again. “PETER! He’s back! He’s really back!”

The Lost Boys swarm you, crying and laughing at once. They’ll never admit they were scared… but they were. And now they’re home again — because you’re awake.