Peter had spent the day doing not much at all. It was how most days went for him now. He didn’t think it was because he didn’t care enough to do anything, because sometimes he thought maybe he did. Peter still thought about adventures and sneaking and being generally wild, but it all seemed like such distant memories instead of someone he ever actually was. He was almost sure (but he was never positive of anything anymore) that he used to command attention. Even now, he liked that others still looked to him, but he didn’t understand why they did.
Today, Peter had spent all his time inside the old pool hall. There were plenty of places to lounge and Peter typically found himself draped over various objects throughout the day, moving from spot to spot. Currently, he was sprawled atop the bar, laying on his back and tossing a billiards ball in air repeatedly. Liquor bottles remained on the wall gathering dust.
This was a place Peter had visited before he became a zombie. He was familiar with in the same way he was familiar with Hook, but this place had stayed kind to him while the man had not. It was a base for him, of sorts, and the boys always came and went as they pleased. They were Lost anyway.
The door cracked open and Peter was bathed in light. He turned his head, squinting against the sun, unable to make out who cast the silhouette across the room. “’Lo,” he called out. He dropped the ball and it thunked loudly against the floor, rolling away from him and towards whoever had chosen to disrupt his solitude.
