Fic: Somewhere In Neverland - Part Six

[chimneythunder]

“ You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you... That's where I'll be waiting.”
- Tinkerbell, Hook.


You could accuse Gerard Way of being many things, the most common ones being ‘weird’ and ‘moody’. Even at the age of 5, his mother Donna could see the signs of the personality that would stick with him for life forming. She’d lost count of the amount of times he’d come home from kindergarden with yet another letter from his teacher saying that Gerard was already displaying a keen interest in the macabre and disturbing, and was depleting the schools supply of black and red paint at a rapid rate. There was also the time in class where Gerard had put his podgy hand up and asked his teacher – a kindly old woman who probably should have retired a long time ago – why she had decided to grow up into such a wrinkled old state when she could have stopped herself long ago. Then there had been the incident with poor William Beckett, where Gerard had apparently convinced him he knew how to fly; they’d been caught attempting to climb onto the playgroup’s roof.

So, yes, Gerard was undoubtedly classed as ‘weird’ (and even marked down as ‘one to watch out for’ by some of his teachers) but to Donna Way, all the above merely showed something else; for all his failure to understand social norms, her eldest son was most certainly not lacking in imagination.

Gerard’s imagination fascinated his mother. He could play by himself for hours, losing himself in make-believe worlds. Like many children his age, he had imaginary friend.

“What have you been doing in the garden?” Donna asked when he came in for tea one summer afternoon. Her son was filthy, like he’d been crawling around in the dirt; there were even some leaves sticking out of his messy dark hair.

“Playing with Frank,” Gerard shrugged, reaching up with one of his short, fat arms and helping himself to a cookie off the kitchen counter.

“I see,” Donna said, trying to hide her smile. “What were you playing?”

“Cowboy and injuns.” The reply was slightly muffled though a mouthful of cookie crumbs. “Frank says that Neverland’s filled with ‘em.”

“Neverland? Isn’t that where Peter Pan is from?” Donna asked.

“Frankie is Peter Pan,” Gerard said, like he was explaining the obvious. “He has lots of names and changes it whenever he feels like it. Right now, he’s Frank. When’s dinner? Can I go back and play with him for a bit?”

“Ten minutes,” Donna said. “Would Frank like to come in for tea?”

“Frank doesn’t like grown-ups,” Gerard said, reaching up and grabbing another cookie.

“Gerard, don’t have any more, you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“It’s not for me, Mom. It’s for Frank. He’s waiting for me,” Gerard said impatiently, and then disappeared back out the back door again.

“Ten minutes!!” Donna called out as a reminder. “Don’t disappear off to Neverland until after dinner!!”

“I won’t!” came Gerard’s reply. He’d already crawled under the shrubs at the bottom of the garden, where Donna knew was his ‘super secret’ den (and “no Mikey’s allowed!”)

As far as Donna was concerned, there was nothing wrong with her son, no matter what the school said. He was a very creative, imaginative little boy. It was harmless enough.

Yes, harmless enough... or so she thought until a few weeks later when Gerard came running through the kitchen and down into his basement bedroom, crying his eyes out. When she immediately followed him, she found him trying to close his window.

“But Gerard, honey, you never close the window,” she said, helping him down off the windowsill before he could fall and hurt himself. “You always said that’s how Frank gets it –”

“I hate Frank!!” Gerard screamed, his face bright red and tear-stained. “He won’t take me to Neverland!!”

She’d closed the window and then cuddled him close, stroking his hair and trying to work out what was the best course of action. There’d never really been any sort of parenting tips on what to do when your child has a fight with their imaginary friend.

“Sweetie, what happened?” she asked, eventually deciding to go with the ‘act as if he’s real’ approach. “I thought you two were playing buried treasure?”

Gerard sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Yu-huh, we were. The treasure was the panpipes and it was my turn to bury them so I put them somewhere good, somewhere he’d never find, and then I said that he’d have to stay here if he couldn’t find them and then -”

He broke off as his eyes welled up and his face reddened alarmingly.

“Shh, it’s OK, take your time,” Donna said soothingly. “What happened next?”

“I – I asked him why he wouldn’t take me to Neverland anyway because I want to go and he keeps making all these excuses,” Gerard said miserably. “And then he said he didn’t want to take me because he didn’t want me to meet the Lost Boys.”

She would never know the exact phrasing, which Gerard would play over in his mind for weeks after that.

“Why won’t you take me to Neverland, Frankie? I want to go!!”

“I don’t want to share you, Gee... The Lost Boys would want to play with you and... I don’t want them to. You’re all mine.”

They were both too young to understand the complexity of their emotions. Frank didn’t know why he didn’t want to share Gerard as a playmate, he just didn’t. As for Gerard, he couldn’t see any further implications in this other than Frank was being mean.

“That’s not fair!! I want to go and have adventures with you!! I hate you!!”

Wounded, Frank had then said “Well now I’m never taking you there!”

It wasn’t until later that evening after Gerard had had his bath and Donna was tucking him in bed that she thought to ask him where he’d buried the treasure. Gerard shrugged and mumbled that he couldn’t even remember.

“Honey, do you want me to open the window?” she asked. Gerard had always insisted on sleeping with it open so Frank could come in.

Something crossed his tiny face and then he rolled onto his side, pulling the covers up over his head.

“No,” he said.

And that was the end of Frank.

And then a week later, that poor Toro boy across the road was murdered by his mother. The police never found the body so there was no proof to convict her, but everyone in the town knew she’d done it. Out of everything, Donna was partly relieved that she’d narrowly escaped having to explain to Gerard why he needed to keep his window locked at all times.


Part Seven