A/N: Okay, so I'm stepping wayyy out of my comfort zone with this story, and I'm sort of nervous about it. I'm forcing myself to upload it now before I change my mind. Basically, it's Kurt and Blaine in Peter Pan world, with Kurt filling the role of Peter Pan. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but I was make copies at work today and I was suddenly struck by the image of Kurt in a Peter Pan costume, and then my imagination just went into overdrive. So I thought I'd give it a try. I'll probably write a few chapters, and then if I like where it's headed, maybe I'll continue. I would really appreciate some honest feedback - is this the kind of story you guys would actually be interested in reading? Like I said, this isn't the type of story I usually write, so any comments would be much appreciated :).

He had been appearing in Blaine's dreams a lot lately - a pale, elfin-looking boy dressed all in green. He had the most beautiful eyes Blaine had ever seen - a vivid blue-gray that somehow became something close to green towards the center. They seemed to twinkle of their own accord, as if always alight with laughter, or mischief, or both. Blaine was so utterly entranced by those eyes that they were what he spent the most time reflecting on, even when the dreams included fantastical things like flying or diving off of a waterfall or sailing through the sky aboard a golden ship.

"Blaine. Blaine. Are you even listening to me?"

Blaine blinked, looking up from where he had been staring at a bowl of soggy cereal. "Umm. Yes?" he said in an entirely unconvincing tone. He had not been listening to her, of course - his mind had been far away, thinking about the boy in green, who had made yet another appearance in his dreams the night before.

His mother sighed at him from across the kitchen table. "I just want you to remember, dear, that your meeting with the college counselor is today."

"I know, Mom," he replied, turning back to his cereal. His parents had not stopped talking about the meeting all week.

"And it's very important that you make a good impression, because these counselors have lots of pull, you know."

Blaine nodded.

"So just make sure to ask him about the schools we talked about, and find out what he thinks. Of course you're qualified, but any tips will be helpful. You know what they've been saying, the college application process gets more -"

"Competitive every year, yeah. I know." He'd heard her say it so many times that he had no problem finishing the sentence for her.

"Good." She glanced at her watch and stood up, straightening her impeccably tailored gray suit. "Alright, I have to get to work. Make sure you get to school on time; lateness doesn't look very impressive on your record." She planted a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Make us proud today, honey."

Blaine forced himself to return her smile, then watched her disappear out the side door. When he heard her car pull out of the driveway, he gave a sigh of relief. Finally, a few moments of peace. He pushed his cereal away and headed back to his bedroom, grabbing his guitar and plopping down on the bed. He strummed aimlessly, not playing anything in particular, just enjoying the calmness he always felt when he had a guitar in his hands.

His mind wandered back to the dream he had been reflecting on while he was supposed to be listening to his mother. In this one, they had been flying, hand-in-hand, doing flips and twists as they soared through the air. Blaine smiled at the memory - thinking about it was like remembering time spent with a beloved old friend. Indeed, the boy in green featured in Blaine's dreams so often nowadays that Blaine was beginning to think of him as a friend - a friend with beautiful eyes and kissable lips that Blaine definitely did not have a crush on, because having a crush on a figment of your imagination was just plain sad. He tended to appear in Blaine's dreams when Blaine was particularly stressed or worried about something, which of course explained why he had been popping up more and more frequently this year.

Ever since junior year had started a few months ago, Blaine felt as if he was always stressed or worried about something. His classes were more difficult, SATs were fast approaching, and college applications were looming in the distance. Suddenly, all anyone seemed to care about was the future - where to go to college, what to major in, which career path to follow. And Blaine was apparently supposed to have answers to all of these questions, to know, at the age of 16, what kind of person he wanted to be and what he wanted to do with his life.

Of course, his parents already had it all planned out for him. A prestigious college, a well-paying job, a family, a vacation home in the Hamptons. Essentially, they wanted him to follow in their very respectable footsteps. They had never bothered to ask Blaine whether that was what he wanted - because really, who wouldn't want all of that? Blaine sometimes wondered whether he was crazy for not wanting what his parents wanted for him. It was a comfortable life, to be sure - one that he had grown up reaping the benefits of. But it was also a life that he couldn't entirely picture himself living. There were things that he wanted more than an important job and a fancy house and a pretty wife. Things like playing his music for a live audience and living in a city and having a boyfriend. He just wasn't sure how to tell his parents that.

Actually, it wasn't really telling them that was the problem. It was getting them to really listen to what he was saying. They already knew he was gay - he'd told them two years ago and they'd been very nice about it, more so than he had expected. But he couldn't shake the feeling that they viewed it as some sort of phase he was going through that would eventually end with him marrying a woman. They also knew how much he loved music, but his father had made it perfectly clear that, while he admired Blaine's talent, a career as a musician was simply not a suitable option. And so Blaine had found himself more and more stressed and unhappy, working his ass off for a future he wasn't even sure he wanted.

The clock on Blaine's bedside table indicated that it was time to leave for school, and he put down his guitar reluctantly. He dreaded going to school these days, and today was even worse because of that stupid meeting with the college counselor. He was well-prepared for the meeting - his parents had seen to that - but he was nervous nonetheless. There was only one thing he really wanted to talk to the counselor about, but it was not part of the guidelines his parents had laid out for him, and he wasn't sure he would have the guts to bring it up.

Three hours of class did nothing to calm Blaine's nerves, even though he spent most of the time daydreaming about the boy in green. By the time he found himself sitting in the guidance office, staring across the desk at the college counselor, he was sick to his stomach. The office itself did not help matters - the walls were plastered with the names of impressive colleges that Dalton alums had gone to and pictures of men in business suits, looking very rich and important as they shook hands with their former teachers.

The meeting went more smoothly than Blaine had expected - he remembered all of the colleges he was supposed to list off, and the counselor was very friendly and helpful. Blaine felt that he would have been in very good shape if he had actually wanted to go to any of the colleges that they were discussing. Of course, the meeting did nothing to help him figure out where he might actually want to go to school, but at least he would have good things to tell his parents.

It was only as the meeting was drawing to a close that Blaine finally got up the courage to ask the one thing he was dying to know. The counselor had kindly asked if he had any more questions, and Blaine, thinking of his guitar, had blurted out, "Do any of these schools happen to have good music programs?"

The counselor looked slightly puzzled by his question, and Blaine blushed, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. "None of them are really known for that, no," the counselor said. "Is that something that's very important to you?"

"I - no, I was just curious," Blaine lied, looking at the ground. He bade the counselor goodbye and rushed out of the office, feeling even more depressed than he had that morning.

At dinner that night, Blaine answered question after question about the meeting. His parents seemed pleased with his report of how it went until he made the mistake of mentioning that he had asked about music programs.

His father rubbed his face, looking irritated. "Come on, Blaine, not this again," he said.

"It's important to me, Dad," Blaine replied quietly.

"We've been through this. You have no future in music."

Blaine had heard the words many times before, but they stung nonetheless. He felt his temper rising. "What about what I want right now? Doesn't that matter too?"

"Of course it does, dear," his mother said consolingly.

"But not as much as your future," his father insisted, sounding angry now.

"All we ever talk about is the stupid future!" Blaine yelled, standing up. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up - normally when they had these conversations, he just nodded along and tried not to think too much about what his parents were saying. But the combination of the meeting today and the interrogation at dinner, not to mention months of stress, had finally become too much for him, and he could feel a breakdown coming. There was no stopping it now.

"Because it's the rest of your life, Blaine!" his father shouted, also getting to his feet. Mrs. Anderson remained seated, looking back and forth between her husband and her son with an expression of concern mingled with shock on her face. "You can't prance around playing that guitar and doing whatever the hell you want forever! You have to grow up some time!"

"I don't want to grow up!" Blaine screamed, angry tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He blinked them back furiously. "Not if being like you is what I have to look forward to!" And with that he turned on his heel and ran out of the kitchen and up to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He flung himself on to his bed and sobbed, hating his parents and his life and most of all the future. He had meant what he said - he never wanted to grow up, he just wanted to stay young forever and never have to deal with being an adult and living in the real world.

He could hear his parents voices coming from the kitchen, and he was sure they were talking about him, but neither of them came to check on him. He probably should have felt sad that they couldn't be bothered to come see if he was alright, but he was really just grateful to be left alone. It wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep, hot tears still sliding down his cheeks.

As he slept, he dreamed about the boy in green again. He was holding Blaine's guitar and running, occasionally looking over his shoulder as if daring Blaine to follow. Blaine was running too, doing his best to catch up, but the boy was too fast for him. Blaine wanted to call out, to ask the boy where he was going and why he had Blaine's guitar, but he couldn't seem to find the right words. And then he tripped over a tree stump and went sprawling forwards, the ground rushing towards his face...

His eyes snapped open. He was not looking at the ground, thankfully, nor was he looking at his ceiling, as might have been expected. Instead, he was staring into a pair of familiar blue-green eyes, peering down at him curiously from an equally familiar elfin face.

A/N: Okay, I'm nervous. Thoughts?