CHAPTER 1

Neverland

Aaron's cheek scars tingled as he got lost one last time in the Barbican Centre's maze. But the pendant ​pressing against his chest gnawed at him more — a haunting reminder of the night he’d survived and a ​promise waiting to be fulfilled.

He yanked his hood low, adjusted his earphones, and claimed his usual spot on a low wall. With one knee ​hugged to his chest and the other leg dangling, his faded black Converse tapped out a rhythm in the air above ​the deserted courtyard. Surrounded by the stillness of the fountains and the ghostly playground, the song's ​melody began to untangle his thoughts, knotted like the strings of his hoodie.

In less than twenty-four hours, he’d be in Australia, soaking up the magic of the Southern Lights and taking ​care of koalas and other wild critters. It felt unreal it was happening after putting the trip on hold for what ​seemed like forever.

First, there was school, then exams, and he even hung around for those A-levels and uni interviews. Not that ​he was into it, as he couldn’t care less. It was all to keep Aunt Olivia off his back. She was convinced he was ​taking a gap year, after all. But the truth? He was leaving for good, with no plans to return.

As the last notes faded away, muffled silence swallowed Aaron. The eerie calm, a stark contrast to London’s ​typical hustle, amplified the very thoughts he’d been attempting to quiet.

He grasped his necklace, fingers tracing the jagged edges of the pendant's glass. The uneven texture was ​grounding.

Taking a deep breath, Aaron pulled out his phone and opened the call log:

Tori

Tori

Tori

They were all unanswered calls, each one echoing his growing desperation. Shivers ran down his spine. A ​name shouldn’t wield such power.

But it did.

With a shaky thumb, Aaron pressed the call button and held the phone close to his chest, waiting. Once ​again, it was Tori’s familiar voicemail greeting him.

“Hey there, it’s Tori. Can’t find my phone … as usual! But leave a message after the beat and maybe — just ​maybe — I’ll get back to you!”

The chorus of “Something Just Like This” by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay hummed in the background. ​Not his favourite tune, but its catchy melody often played on a loop in his mind.

“Hey, Tori, it’s me, Aaron,” his voice rough and choked, as if he’d just downed a shot of vodka. “I keep ​hoping you’ll answer one of these days. I wanted to tell you that, tomorrow, I’m leaving and not coming back. ​I'm heading to the place we always dreamed of, far away from everything and everyone. You remember, right? ​Our Neverland.” He paused, his throat tightening as memories of their hope-filled hideaway flooded back. “I ​wish you were coming with me, but—”

His message was cut off by an incoming call. Cliff’s image, grinning whilst clutching a bottle of Tequila, ​flashed on the screen.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aaron answered, “What now?”

“You sorted for tonight’s party?” Cliff’s voice buzzed with excitement, and Aaron could almost see him ​bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Oh, right, the costume party. It had slipped Aaron's mind as his great journey loomed over everything.

“I’ll pass,” he replied curtly.

“Don’t be such a mood killer! Afraid you’ll bump into your ex?” Cliff teased.

Aaron straightened, feet planted firmly on the ground. “For the last time, she wasn’t my girlfriend. We ​hooked up. Once.” It wasn’t even that great.

“Come on, mate. It’s your last night here.”

“I’m off to Australia tomorrow, and—”

“All the more reason. One last wild night. See you in a bit.”

Without waiting for a response, Cliff ended the call. He was always the life of the party, always pushing Aaron ​out of his comfort zone.

But as Aaron’s gaze lingered on the Barbican Centre’s vastness, a hard realisation struck him: this was, ​indeed, his last night in London.

Aaron let out a sigh, a mix of giving in and gearing up, hanging in the crisp air. He stared at those three huge ​concrete blocks cutting sharply against the sky, their jagged edges slicing through the fluffy clouds above.

He had always been fascinated by these Brutalist giants, with their bold, no-nonsense lines. They took him ​straight to the world of sci-fi movies. There he was, getting lost in the grid patterns of the surrounding ​buildings, his eyes dancing along the balcony lines like some kind of gravity-defying architectural ballet.

The place never got old, no matter how many times he came here.

He’d often scratched his head over this maze-like layout. He could see where he wanted to go, but getting ​there was always a mad dash of ups, downs, and loads of twists and turns. It was like a maze dreamed up by a ​genius, always looping him back to where he started. And those sky-high walkways, linking buildings that ​looked almost the same, except for the odd plants hanging out on the railings.

It was odd to see bits of green in such a grey landscape. Kind of out of place. Much like himself.

But for Aaron, the mix of green and grey had its own charm. It made him think of places from myths and ​bedtime stories, reminiscent of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. A place as fantastical as Neverland.

A brief smile crossed his face, but it didn’t stick around for long.

It was time to say goodbye; to the city, to this life, and maybe even to Tori.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket, but this time a message from Aunt Olivia flashed on the screen.

Aunt Olivia: Coming back for dinner?

Dragging his feet, Aaron made his way towards the exit. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle when he ​passed a bewildered group of people who were trying to navigate the maze of pathways.

Once he stepped outside, the familiar sounds of the city hit him: the constant buzz of traffic, bursts of ​laughter spilling out from the nearby pubs, and the occasional distant wail of an ambulance siren.

Heading to the Tube station, he moved almost mechanically; phone in hand to swipe through the turnstile, a ​quick dash down the left side of the escalator, and an agile turn towards the platform where the Tube awaited ​to whisk him back to Aunt Olivia’s.

As he entered the Greenwich area, Aaron breathed deeply, taking in the first teeth-baring bite of the autumn ​evening air. The leaves crunched under his quick steps as he turned into quiet side streets, all lined with red-​brick houses. After a series of lookalike facades, he stopped at a black door.

This had been his home for the last three years.

He slid the key into the lock and, with his other hand, held the slightly shaky, still-not-fixed doorknob. That ​little inconvenience had always bugged him, but now, there was a weird twist in his gut. This was it. He ​wouldn’t have to deal with that dodgy doorknob any longer.

Stepping inside, the distant sound of a film seeped through the corridor. It sounded like the usual romcom ​Aunt Olivia loved.

Aaron slipped off his shoes and crept towards the stairs, taking them two at a time, careful not to make any of ​the steps creak.

Retreating to his room, cold like the half-full mugs of peppermint tea he often forgot around the house, he ​was relieved to find that everything was as he had left it that morning: the messy bed with bunched-up sheets, ​an empty duffle bag on the edge of the mattress, and the wardrobe doors flung wide open. He grabbed the few ​garments he owned — white T-shirts, grey hoodies, dark jeans, and joggers — and tossed them into the bag. ​Most of his clothes, worn from too many washes, needed replacing. Yet, as long as they held together, he kept ​them.

Whilst he continued to fill the bag, a light tap on the door forced him to stop for a moment. Out of the corner ​of his eye, he followed the long brown hair slowly coming into view.

“I’m crashing at Cliff’s tonight.” He didn’t bother to turn around. “It’s easier to get to Heathrow from there.”

“Have you taken everything you need for your trip?” Aunt Olivia asked eagerly, her voice light and playful as ​she came closer, dragging her bare feet on the carpet. It almost seemed like she was the one going.

Aaron mumbled in approval and kept arranging his belongings in silence, then closed the zipper with ​satisfaction.

“I’m so excited for you!” she chirped, plopping onto the edge of the bed and crossing her legs. The wood ​creaked slightly; the mattress bent under her weight, making the bag tilt. “A little adventure with Cliff before ​uni is exactly what you need. I can’t wait to hear all about the beautiful places you’ll visit in Australia!”

Aaron glanced at the pictures on the wall: all the beautiful places his sister wished to see, the koalas, the ​Northern Lights. He stiffened. His fingers grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling hard to let air pass, then ​slipped underneath and began scratching the damaged skin on his chest that had started itching.

“Aarie,” Aunt Olivia grabbed his arm. “Pause for a second and sit down with me.”

His agitation halted at her touch. Setting the bag down, he slumped beside her, hunching forward with his ​face buried in his hands. He breathed in and out rhythmically, attempting to steady his hammering heart and ​prevent it from bursting forth from his chest. The comforting warmth of his aunt’s hand on his back ​gradually stilled his trembling. It was a steady anchor grounding him back to the present.

Aaron lifted his face, letting his hands come to rest on his thighs. His eyes roamed the room, seeking another ​grounding point. They settled on the shelf above the desk, brimming with books. One spine in particular ​caught his attention.

It was an awful shade of green. Green like the pendant he wore, green as the leaves that seemed the same to ​him every season, green as the hope that had fractured within him after the accident.

“Aarie,” Aunt Olivia called him, “both good and bad things happen in life. You can’t avoid it. And running ​away from what you can’t face won’t lead you anywhere. This kind of race is not one you can win.”

Those words echoed ones he’d heard in that haunting hospital room three years ago. If he closed his eyes, he ​could still smell the sharp scent of disinfectant mingling with the delicate aroma of orchids.

The phone in his jeans pocket began to chime with the upbeat tune of Super Mario theme song, a quirky ​sound that clashed with the tension of the moment. Aaron ignored it and turned to look Aunt Olivia in the ​eyes. They were as dark as his, but there wasn’t the same darkness in them.

“It’s alright,” he reassured her. “You’ve already said it. This trip will be good for me.”

Aunt Olivia gave a small, hesitant nod, her wrinkled forehead betraying her scepticism. “I only want you to be ​happy.”

Aaron abruptly rose to his feet. “Happy or not, I’m still here. Isn’t that enough?”

“Aarie, what matters is having a purpose, a direction. You can’t drift like a twig in the stream. It’s fine to feel ​lost at times but remember, you have the strength to swim through the current. I’ve told you this before, and ​I’ll say it again: there is more to life than just living.”

Aaron lifted his bag, only to set it right back down on the bed. Unzipping it, he rummaged through its ​contents, blatantly dodging an all-too-familiar conversation, one that was cutting too close.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Aunt Olivia’s concern. He did. She’d been a solid rock when the world had ​crumbled around him after the accident. But there were places in his pain she couldn’t reach, dark corners he ​hoped she’d never have to see.

The phone’s persistent ringing flirted with Aaron’s last nerve, tempting him to throw it out the window.

“I’ll let you crack on with your packing,” Aunt Olivia said quietly, standing up. Before heading back ​downstairs, she handed him a small notebook.

Aaron took it, a bit unsure. The cover was dark, kind of leathery, with loads of tiny constellations embossed ​on it.

“Early birthday present,” she explained. “You’re always doodling on books and scraps of paper. Figured it’d ​be nice to have a proper notebook to draw all the wild animals you’ll see, the scenery, and the Lights …”

Aaron held onto the little notebook. He didn’t open it, just thanked her, not sure if he’d ever use it.

“Remember to call now and then, okay?” Aunt Olivia added, and then she was gone.

Aaron chucked the notebook into his bag and zipped it up. Adjusting the shoulder strap, he looked around ​the room one last time.

Here, unlike at his parents’, he’d been able to plaster the walls with posters of his favourite bands, films, and ​snaps of Australia. But even with all his personal touches, the room never really screamed ‘Aaron’.

It just wasn’t home.

Before heading downstairs, Aaron wandered over to the shelf above his desk. His gaze settled on that green ​book spine again. His eyes traced the sun’s slanted rays illustrated on the top, finally resting on the title: ​‘Peter Pan’. Below, a cascade of tiny golden stars sparkled.

When he first picked up that book in a bookshop, the embossed stars on the cover had a pleasing, almost ​comforting texture beneath his fingers. Now, he imagined they’d burn like scorching hot metal.

Whispers from the past started buzzing in his ears, dragging him back to that bloody hospital room.

“This is for you, Aarie.” Tori had said with laboured breaths, pointing to a flat, rectangular package on the ​bed. “Things in life don’t always go as planned. But it doesn’t mean you can’t move forward. If you ever feel ​stuck or lost … try to look in here to find your way home.”

But Aaron never did. He had never opened that damn book.

He didn’t want to remember the happy times he and Tori had spent reading it together, or the sound of their ​joyful laughter that he couldn’t bring back anymore. He was scared that, instead of pointing him anywhere, ​the book would remind him of a happiness that was out of reach now.

Ever since his sister left, Aaron had lost a reference point on the map of life.

So, he had decided to shoot off to the other side of the world, placing oceans and continents between his past ​and present. And like Peter Pan, he’d fly towards his Neverland, even if no happy thoughts were driving him. ​Only a desperate need for something different. Anything different.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locked on the book. Part of him longed to grab it, but the other was ​repulsed. The pendant around his neck throbbed against his skin, its weight both a burden and a comfort.

His phone, ringing non-stop, yanked him back, dragging him from a vortex of feelings and ‘what could have ​been’ thoughts. Now wasn’t the moment to lose himself in the past. Tomorrow was waving him over, hinting ​at a new beginning.

He had to get moving. Life, as he’d painfully learned, waits for no one. It marches on, even as personal worlds ​crumble. And it was high time he marched with it.

Stepping away from the desk, Aaron pulled out his still-ringing phone.

“I’m ready,” he straightened his posture. “Wait for me.”

There it was again.

Every single time they attended a party, Cliff would vanish on him within seconds, on the hunt for someone ​to snog.

From his spot in the kitchen corner, next to a counter cluttered with empty bottles, used cups, and half-eaten ​snacks, Aaron had no trouble spotting Cliff. In that awful Squid Game jumpsuit he claimed was bright red — ​though it looked like a dull brown to Aaron — Cliff was impossible to miss. He stood out even more whilst ​having a full-on face-sucking session with a vampire girl. Classic Cliff.

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