Austin Chant > Quotes

“Thats the trick of growing up. Nothing stays the same." Hook sounded oddly sympathetic. "You see the faults in everything. Including yourself.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“What was the point of being himself if he had to be alone?”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Dreamers are always welcome here, whatever their reasons.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“The very world here bends for the sake of your stories, Pan. I see no reason why I, a mere man, should not.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Imagine having a well-cultivated pirate crew and established career as the terror of the seas, only to have some bloody ten-year-old show up claiming he's the spirit of youth and joy and your unholy nemesis, Oh, and he's rallied a bunch of other little boys to come and kill you.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“The trousers were miles too long, even when Peter cuffed the legs. The socks bagged in the ankles, and the shirt and sweater were equally large. But when Peter finally managed to get the collars to lie right and glanced at the reflection he'd carved out of the dust on James's mirror, a shock went through him.
This was the face which had haunted him all his life, the one he had looked in the eye on the day he left the Darling house for the last time. The hair, messy and short, enthusiastically curling without the weight of his old braid to drag it down. The stubborn chin. The clear, sharp, sullen eyes full of everything he had never been allowed to be.
Peter ran his hands over himself slowly, breathing tentatively, feeling the weight of his chest under his shirt. He had given this body up. He had thought it belonged to Wendy, to the girl he wasn't. He had let his family make him believe that the only way he would ever be a boy was to be born again in a different shape, leaving everything of his body and history behind.
He breathed out and settled in the feeling of being himself, of being something whole.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Not everything is your truth," she said tersely. "Some things are just true.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Pan," Hook said. "You saved my life."
Peter didn't know what to say. He had gone back to rescue Hook so unthinkingly, so instinctually, that he was only now beginning to realize he had done it. He hadn't worried about a single thing besides protecting Hook.
He cast around for a reason—an excuse, not the real reason, which he already knew.
"I had to," he said finally. "If you'd died there, I wouldn't have been the one to defeat you."
Hook gave a low chuckle. "Your obsession is flattering, Pan. And I share it."
"Obsession?"
"Is that not what they call it," Hook said, "when two men can think of nothing but each other?"
Peter went still, feeling his ears go hot at the implication. Hook knew, he thought. Hook knew exactly what Peter had felt before, when Hook had pinned him down.
He sat there tongue-tied. The two of them didn't speak for some time, until the kraken's last cringing wails had receded and there was no sound but the shiver of the leaves.
"Thank you," Hook said eventually. "I suppose I should have led with that.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“He bit his lip, struggling to make words out of the war waging itself in his chest.
"I don't know what this makes me," he managed at last.
Hook laughed, not unkindly. "It makes you whatever you want it to make you.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“I always thought the only way to grow up was to be… her. I don't know what to do as me.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“May you grow up kinder than your fathers and less superstitious than your mothers,”
― Austin Chant, Caroline's Heart

“Peter lifted his head. Hook's hair was tangled around his face like a lion's mane and his eyes were painfully clear, all teasing and mirth gone from his mouth.
He took Peter's chin in his hand, his fingers calloused but gentle, and kissed him.
Everything in the world grew quiet and Peter's body grew loud. The caress of Hook's fingertips under his chin made his pulse catch, his throat flushing, shoulders tightening. He could only seem to breathe in, breathe Hook in deeper. Hook's lips were dry, and he tasted like salt and sweet wine. He smelled like gunpowder and the sea and he was everywhere, shifting closer across the leaves, his other arm snaking around Peter's waist, the iron claw pressed flat between his shoulder blades.
Peter dug his fingers into fistfuls of earth, trying to ground himself as Hook pulled them together, tipping Peter's head back with the gentle thrust of his kiss, a momentum that threatened to tilt them both to the ground. Peter was impossibly hot, hot to his fingertips and toes and his skin was crawling with the need to be touched, the shock of that need.
Sweat caught at the back of his shirt. His skin was stark canvas begging for ink, and Hook's touch was going to stain him forever. It was too much, too sudden. Peter recoiled, yanking a knife from his boot and holding it between them. He didn't mean it as a threat, just a way to make distance where none had been.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Sometimes you have to reclaim it," he mutters. "Because it gets rubbed in your face either way.”
― Austin Chant, Coffee Boy

“If he's being honest, half the reason he studied politics in college was because he liked the drama.”
― Austin Chant, Coffee Boy

“God, he thinks, he could be starving and she’d fill him up with one sweet look.”
― Austin Chant, Caroline's Heart

“Neverland's different," he mumbled. "It's not like it was when I was a boy.
It's not—fun anymore."
"That's the trick of growing up. Nothing stays the same." Hook sounded
oddly sympathetic. "You see the faults in everything. Including yourself.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Peter rubbed his hands together against the cold, shuddering and willing himself not to cry. It was exactly as it had been ten years ago. He'd realized as a boy that Neverland was empty, that the Lost Boys who so resembled his brothers weren't really John and Michael, and then he'd known it wasn't worth it to stay. What was the point of being himself if he had to be alone?”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“You know, I find that enemies are often the most satisfying people to share your secrets with. If you must tell someone, tell someone who's sensitive to all your vulnerabilities, on account of trying to exploit them.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“He was struck by the feeling that they were the only two people alive in the world—that this was something beyond any magic or illusion or story Neverland could conjure. Something real.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“That's the trick of growing up. Nothing stays the same." Hook sounded oddly sympathetic. "You see the faults in everything. Including yourself.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“I guess I think of it as what we called each other in college when we didn't want to use gay to refer to everyone who's not straight and cisgender."
Seth ducks his head. "I understand that. It doesn't bother me so much when other people talk about the community, about themselves. I suppose, since I didn' come out until I was older, I just never had much of a chance for positive associations with being called queer.”
― Austin Chant, Coffee Boy

“Kieran could gracefully accept his apology. Or he could open his fucking mouth, and guess which one he does.”
― Austin Chant, Coffee Boy

“Classic Marcus. Just hate yourself less and success will find you.”
― Austin Chant, Coffee Boy

“Non volevo ricordare.” Disse a fatica. “Perché mi hai obbligato?”
La regina lo stava studiando come avrebbe fatto uno scienziato. “Il mio compito è proteggere questo mondo, Pan. I sognatori, qualunque sia la loro motivazione, sono sempre benvenuti qui. Ma tu sembri solo interessato a distruggere l’isola in ogni tua fantasia.”
“È così,” sibilò Peter. “Sono qui per combattere. Sono un ragazzo.”
“Lo sei,” disse lei. “Ma quando intendi crescere?”
Crescere. A Peter sembrò di sentire quelle parole echeggiare con la voce di suo padre e non riuscì più a tollerarlo. Una rabbia cieca cancellò la sua paura e allontanò la sua nuova consapevolezza come una fiamma ardente. Si lanciò contro la regina quando il mondo intorno a lui riapparve all’improvviso in tutti i suoi colori. Capì d’essere circondato dalla corte della regina che gli puntava contro pungiglioni, spine e denti avvelenati.
“Stai attento, Pan.” La regina non s’era mossa. “Quasi tutto in questo mondo può piegarsi ai tuoi desideri, ma non io. Ti piacerebbe venire cacciato per sempre dall’isola?”
“No.” rispose Peter con rabbia.
“Allora calmati,” disse la regina. “Ti lascerò sognare, ma l’Isola Che-non-c’è deve sopravvivere. Pensaci bene.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“L’Isola Che-non-c’è è diversa,” mormorò. “Non è più come la ricordavo da bambino. Non è più… divertente.”
“È quello che succede quando si cresce: le cose cambiano.” Uncino sembrava stranamente comprensivo. “Si cominciano a vedere i difetti in qualsiasi cosa, inclusi sé stessi.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“He felt his way through the uncertainty. “I always thought the only way to grow up was to be someone else. I don’t know what to do as me.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Sei stato tu a salvarmi per primo sparando al kraken. Non mi devi nulla.”
Uncino rispose con una piccola risata: “Non essere modesto. Un uomo sa bene quando è in debito con qualcuno.” Si tirò su anche lui girandosi verso Peter. “Forse questo ci metterà alla pari.”
Peter alzò la testa. I capelli d’Uncino erano tutti spettinati e lo facevano sembrare un leone. I suoi occhi sembravano incredibilmente chiari e tutta l’ironia e l’apparente ilarità erano scomparse dalla sua bocca.
Prese il mento di Peter nella mano stringendolo con dita ruvide ma gentili e lo baciò.
Il mondo divenne di colpo silenzioso anche se il corpo di Peter faceva un rumore tremendo. La carezza delle dita d’Uncino sotto al suo mento gli faceva battere forte il cuore, la sua gola era diventata bollente e le spalle erano tese. Gli sembrava di non riuscire a fare altro che inspirare, come se volesse assorbire Uncino con ogni respiro. Le labbra che lo stavano baciando erano secche e sapevano di sale e vino dolce. Il suo corpo odorava di polvere da sparo e di mare e sembrava essere ovunque mentre si avvicinava sempre di più spostandosi sulle foglie. Uncino mise l’altro braccio intorno alla vita di Peter e poggiò l’uncino di metallo fra le sue scapole.
Peter affondò le dita nel suolo per cercare di trovare un sostegno mentre Uncino lo stringeva sempre più forte. Sotto la spinta gentile di quel bacio, aveva tirato la testa un po’ indietro fermandosi appena prima di farli ricadere entrambi sul terreno. Sentiva un caldo terribile lungo tutto il corpo, dalla punta dei piedi a quella delle dita. La sua pelle sembrava coperta di formiche e non desiderava altro che d’essere toccato, anche se quel desiderio lo scioccava.
La sua camicia era bagnata di sudore e la sua pelle era una tela bianca che non aspettava altro che essere coperta d’inchiostro e il tocco d’Uncino l’avrebbe macchiata per sempre. Era troppo e troppo all’improvviso. Si tirò rapidamente indietro, afferrò un coltello da uno stivale piazzandolo fra i loro corpi. Non voleva trasformare quel gesto in una minaccia, ma aveva bisogno di mettere della distanza dove non ce n’era più alcuna.
Uncino lo guardò con un’aria un po’ perplessa e la bocca leggermente rosa.
“Che c’è?” chiese. “Forse ti ho frainteso?”
“No,” disse Peter piano. “Ma io… Io non ho mai…”
Uncino gli accarezzò il viso facendo scorrere i polpastrelli lungo la sua mandibola e Peter fece un respiro profondo e tremante. Uncino lo guardava come se fosse una specie di gioiello, o qualcosa di prezioso.
“Che giovane orgoglioso e insolente.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Avevi l’aria di non dormire troppo bene,” disse, “Stavi sognando?”
Pan si fece piccolo piccolo raccogliendosi nelle spalle e Uncino vide una breccia aprirsi nella sua espressione. Pan si raccolse le ginocchia fra le braccia come faceva sempre quando voleva difendersi da qualcosa. “Sì,” disse brevemente senza avere alcuna intenzione di collaborare.
“Raccontami,” disse Uncino e sollevò le sopracciglia quando Pan lo guardò in malo modo. “Perché no?”
“Perché lo useresti contro di me.” Rispose Pan.
“Dammi un po’ di fiducia, no? Finora sono riuscito a terrorizzarti con successo anche senza avere accesso ai tuoi incubi.”
“Ma non vuol dire che non ne approfitteresti comunque,” rispose Pan anche se non sembrava più molto convinto.
“Ho sempre pensato che i nemici siano le persone ideali con cui condividere i propri segreti. Se devi dirli a qualcuno, allora perché non dirli a qualcuno attento a tutte le tue debolezze per poterne approfittare?”
“Non ha alcun senso.”
“Sto cercando delle scuse per te,” disse Uncino perdendo un po’ la pazienza. “Sembri il tipo che si chiude a riccio senza avere una buona scusa. Puoi parlarmene oppure no. La scelta è soltanto tua.”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“Il pirata sorrideva: aveva sistemato meglio le gambe per aumentare la pressione sulla lama e Peter sbuffò e tirò indietro il collo per aumentare la distanza fra la spada e la sua gola.
Si ritrovò così a guardare Uncino in faccia. Era la prima volta che lo vedeva tanto da vicino e l’immagine davanti ai suoi occhi non era sgradevole, ma affascinante; aveva gli occhi dello stesso colore dei non-ti-scordar-di-me, i capelli ricci e neri, i baffi ricurvi come la cresta d’un onda. Il suo respiro, caldo e profumato di spezie e salsedine, si riversò sulla guancia di Peter che sentì un’ondata di calore invaderlo in tutto il corpo, dal petto alle dita dei piedi.
“Ti arrendi?” Disse Uncino sottovoce.
“Mai.”
Il sorriso di Uncino divenne più profondo. “Ti sei dimenticato di una cosa,” disse e la mano che non reggeva spada – no, anzi, il suo uncino di metallo – gli toccò il mento. Il tocco era quasi delicato, ma la punta dell’uncino era talmente affilata che ogni minimo movimento gli faceva venire i brividi. “È arrivato il momento d’arrenderti, Pan. Altrimenti morirai.”
“Morire,” cominciò a dire Peter, “sarebbe una straordinaria…”
“Ancora con quella storia?” disse Uncino. “Non sei riuscito a pensare a niente di nuovo da dire in dieci anni?”
Peter scoppiò a ridere e stranamente Uncino rise con lui”
― Austin Chant, Peter Darling

“He doesn’t know why he keeps talking. Maybe because she’s a witch, and there’s still a possibility that she can sense when he’s telling the truth. “No matter what it looks like, I’ve always considered myself a man. I’m not just dressed this way in search of an opportunity.”
― Austin Chant, Caroline's Heart