Prologue
Dawson, Age 17
Cold.
That’s all I feel sitting here on the ground at our place. Our hideout.
Our Neverland.
He always thought it was a clever name for this place when we were kids. It was the one place we didn’t have to worry about the outside world or growing up, which was ironic since we probably did the most growing up in this very spot together.
But he’s not here.
He’s not anywhere.
I look down at my tux, remembering how excited I was for him to see me in it. I had hoped he’d peel it off me when we snuck back to Neverland later tonight. I knew without a doubt he’d look beautiful in his.
Homecoming was supposed to be our big moment. After years of hiding, we were finally going to walk into that gym, hand in hand, and show everyone the truth of us and what we were to each other. Not just best friends, but soulmates.
So where the hell is he?
Maybe I didn’t wait back at the house long enough? He’s never been a punctual person, so maybe he just lost track oftime or fell asleep? Or maybe he went to get one of those flower things for my tux and he’s running late? It would just be the kind of cheesy, romantic thing he’d think of.
I numbly pull out my phone and call him again. I can’t remember how many times I’ve done this tonight. Eight? Fifteen?
It goes straight to voicemail this time without even ringing.
Damn it! I don’t fucking understand. Where is he? Why isn’t he here with me where he belongs?
He’s been acting so weird the last two weeks, but I didn’t think anything of it. He goes through strange moods all the time. What if he was having second thoughts about coming out? I mean, that can’t be it. After the football game last night, he was excited and told me he couldn’t wait for the dance. He’d gone a little overboard with the drinking at the afterparty, but he still seemed happy! He promised me he was okay.
Oh god, what if he isn’t? Why the fuck didn’t I try harder to find out what was going on with him?
I scramble to my feet, making a beeline for his house. As soon as I’m clear of the woods at the back of the property, I sprint towards his house. My gut is telling me that something is wrong, otherwise he would have picked me up like he promised to do. Like we planned.
I bang on his front door relentlessly. I try to catch my breath as I wait for him.
He’s okay. He has to be okay.
The door opens and I want to collapse in relief until I get a better view of who opened it.
“Mr. Bishop? Is Theo home? He didn’t come to meet me for the dance and he’s not answering his phone.”
I sound breathless and hoarse, sweat making a slow journey down the back of my neck, but I don’t care. I just need to see him.
Mr. Bishop seems…off. He looks disheveled and upset, and he’s giving me a weird look. Why is he looking at me like that? My stomach is cramping painfully.
“He’s not here, Dawson,” he tells me, but it takes me a bit to process what he said.
“What do you mean? Where is he then?” I ask frantically. I feel seconds away from breaking down into tears or screams or God knows what. This is too much.
“He’s going to stay with his mother.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense. His mom is out in Huntsville or something. Why would he be there? I don’t?—”
My throat is closing. I can barely force the words out.
Fuck, I feel sick.
