Jasper might not conceive of a world where someone could love him unconditionally, but I’ll spend forever convincing him otherwise.

“I love you, Wendy Darling. You know I’m not great at talking, so that’s all I’ve got. I love you. And I hope it’s enough.”

It’s funny how life’s simple, insignificant moments leave a more defined stamp on your soul than the curated events designed to make lasting memories.

Okay,” I finally answer because words fail me, just like they always have.

But if I’ve learned anything about fairy tales, it’s that, once the pixie dust settles, it’s just another world with problems you can’t control. Only lessons to be learned.

I’ve never had someone who makes me feel wanted. Who loves as deeply as Wendy does. Who I can be myself with—terrible conversationalist and all. Because when talk is truly needed, I provide.

I love that she understands the simple things. The fact that, sometimes, there isn’t a goal, but just a pleasure in living life.

I don’t tell her that I’ve already finished it, nor that I went right back to chapter one after I was done.

“I need you. Do you know that? I need your little teases. Your pretty smiles. Your stories. I need you.”

“Then, take me, Captain.”

“If I do, then I’m keeping you. I’m never giving you back.”

“Never is a long time.”

I sigh. “Not long enough.”

“You like my tattoo,” I observe.

“I like its meaning.” And then he leans in, resting his lips against my ear as he whispers, “I think I needed a little bird to remind me to fly too.”

“So, what do you want to be?” he asks.

“I want to be someone’s world,” I admit. “Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe it’s impossible. But I’m tired of being second best.”

“Jasper, baby,” she moans.

Baby.

Such a common pet name. So normal. And exhaled so naturally.

I want common. Normal. Natural.

Baby.

“You want me? Then, come and get me, Captain.”

“I’d let you break me, Wendy Bird,” Jasper whispers gruffly. “And I’d thank God every single day for the guilt that followed if it meant I could keep you for myself.”

“You are …”

But he can’t find the words, and I don’t mind because the fading sentence says more than either of us ever could.

He shakes his head. “God, you’re like my star in the sky, Wendy.”

“Your star?”

“My North Star. Always showing me the direction I should travel. I’ve never met someone like you before.”

I survive small talk with a forced smile, giving a polite nod and averting my gaze when someone else’s eyes catch mine before they can flag me down.

“I don’t see a TV,” he says. “Do you only read?”

“Well, I have my tablet for shows if I want one. But normally, yeah. Just reading.”

I open my mouth to talk, but the words aren’t coming out how they should. Hell, they’re not appearing at all.

[…] while sidestepping through aisles, so Ted, the owner, doesn’t catch me in a conversation.

When Wendy kisses, she smiles.

Like kissing me could actually make somebody —her— happy.

I’m kissing Wendy.

I’m lightheaded, finding that I’m smiling back. She laughs against my lips. I kiss it away. She chases it with another.

The something that sparks through me is wonderful. Exciting.

It’s so much.

Too much.

“If we can’t love the things significant to us without guilt, then what can we love? Your tattoo is important because you think it is. And that’s all that matters.”

“It’s a reminder to keep flying,” I confess. “That life will move on. That the Earth keeps spinning and the birds keep migrating regardless of what happened the day before. That I should keep flying too.”