Thread by @pettykawas

#ushioi — peter pan au

Oikawa as the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up, and Ushijima who stumbles into Neverland on one strange, unforgettable night.

“Do you believe in magic?”

Ushijima frowns, shakes his head.

Oikawa laughs, proud and pretty.

“Let me prove you wrong, then.”

Oikawa takes Ushijima’s hand in his, small and warm, grip gentle but firm. Bathed in something luminous that Sugawara had called pixie dust, Ushijima and Oikawa start to float, ascending into the moonlit sky slowly but surely, as if they weighed no more than a feather.

Ushijima doesn’t know what to say; things like this only happened in the films his mother sometimes permitted him to watch. Everything about this—this island, this boy—defies logic. But instead of fear, something softer, more tender unfurls in his chest as he gazes at Oikawa,

who is smiling at him handsomely, his lithe figure illuminated by the moon, closer now than ever before.

“Well?” Oikawa prompts with a lopsided grin.

Ushijima feels a smile forming on his lips, and a quiet part of him wonders whether the other boy finds him beautiful, too.

“I would like to see more,” Ushijima requests, and Oikawa snorts.

“I bet you do. Isn’t my home incredible?”

Ushijima nods, but if he were to be truly honest, he would have said that it was Oikawa that took his breath away.

Oikawa doesn’t let go of Ushijima’s hand as he leads them through his home, zipping past forests into shortcuts in caves with confidence and ease, weaving through every path and trail as if he’d done it a million times before. And maybe he has.

The sun has started to rise when they finally land on the summit of a hill overlooking Neverland. It’s a beautiful sight, it truly is, but Ushijima is far more entranced by the boy beside him. The heartbeat of the island, made of magic himself.

Ushijima startles when Oikawa turns to him, catching his stare with a knowing grin.

He raises their joined hands and presses a lingering kiss on Ushijima’s fingers; it’s a declaration, a request.

“Don’t forget me, okay?”

When Ushijima wakes, he is in his room. One of his hands is curiously warm, even when the rest of his body is cold from the open window.

He rises to close them, but stops when he sees something wink at him on the window sill, finer and more radiant than glitter.

Pixie dust.

Ushijima grows up, but he never forgets, and when it becomes time for his body to be one with flowers and soil, he stumbles into that strange island once more with the body and eagerness of a child.

He finds Oikawa on the hill where they parted.

He thinks there might be tears in Oikawa’s eyes.

“You didn’t forget,” Oikawa whispers.

Ushijima smiles, nodding.

“I am sorry I kept you waiting.”

Oikawa laughs, still as pretty as Ushijima remembers.

“You should be.” He reaches for Ushijima’s hand, laces their fingers together. “Welcome home.”

Ushijima kisses Oikawa’s fingers; it’s a promise that was kept. “I’m home.”