Page 1 of We May Be Fractured

Neverland

[Now playing ? Somewhere I Belong—Linkin Park]

A aron’s cheek scars tingled as he got lost one last time in the Barbican Centre’s maze. But the pendant pressing against his chest gnawed at him more—a haunting reminder of the night he’d survived and a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

He yanked his hood low, adjusted his earphones, and claimed his usual spot on a low wall.

With one knee hugged to his chest and the other leg dangling, his faded black canvas trainers tapped out a rhythm in the air above the deserted courtyard.

Surrounded by the stillness of the fountains and the ghostly playground, the song’s melody began to untangle his thoughts, knotted like the strings of his hoodie.

In less than twenty-four hours, he’d be in Australia, soaking up the magic of the Southern Lights and taking care of koalas and other wild critters. It felt unreal that the trip was happening after being on hold for what seemed like forever.

First, he’d completed school, then exams, and he’d even hung around for those A levels and uni interviews.

Not that he was into it, as he couldn’t care less.

It was all to keep Aunt Olivia off his back.

She was convinced he was taking a gap year, after all.

But the truth? He’d be leaving for good, with no plans to return.

As the last notes faded away, muffled silence swallowed Aaron. The eerie calm, a stark contrast to London’s typical hustle, amplified the very thoughts he’d been attempting to quiet.

He grasped his necklace, fingers tracing the jagged edges of the pendant’s glass. The uneven texture grounded him.

Taking a deep breath, Aaron pulled out his phone and opened the call log:

Tori

Tori

Tori

Each unanswered call echoed his growing desperation. Shivers ran down his spine. A name shouldn’t wield such power.

But it did.

With a shaky thumb, Aaron pressed the call button and held the phone close to his chest, waiting. Once again, Tori’s familiar voicemail message greeted him.

Hey there, it’s Tori. Can’t find my phone…as usual! But leave a message after the beat and maybe—just maybe—I’ll get back to you!

The chorus of “Something Just Like This” by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay hummed in the background. Not his favourite tune, but its catchy melody often played on a loop in his mind.

“Hey, Tori, it’s me, Aaron,” he said, his voice rough and choked as if he’d downed a shot of vodka.

“I keep hoping you’ll answer one of these days.

I wanted to tell you that tomorrow, I’m leaving and not coming back.

I’m heading to the place we always dreamed of, far away from everything and everyone.

You remember, right? Our Neverland.” He paused, his throat tightening as memories of that imagined future flooded back. “I wish you were coming with me, but—”

An incoming call cut off his message, and Cliff’s image, grinning as he clutched a bottle of tequila, flashed on the screen.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aaron answered the call with, “What now?”

“You sorted for tonight’s party?” Cliff’s voice buzzed with excitement, and Aaron pictured him bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Oh, right, the costume party. It had slipped Aaron’s mind as his great journey loomed over everything.

“I’ll pass,” he replied curtly.

“Don’t be such a mood killer! Afraid you’ll bump into your ex ?” Cliff teased.

Aaron straightened, feet planted firmly on the ground. “For the last time, she wasn’t my girlfriend. We hooked up. Once.” It wasn’t even that great.

“Come on, mate. It’s your last night here.”

“I’m off to Australia tomorrow, and—”

“All the more reason. One last wild night. See you in a bit.”

Without waiting for a response, Cliff ended the call. He was always the life of the party, always pushing Aaron out of his comfort zone.

But as Aaron’s gaze lingered on the Barbican Centre’s vastness, a hard realisation struck him: this was, indeed, his last night in London.

Aaron sighed, something between giving in and gearing up hanging in the crisp air. He stared at the three huge concrete blocks cutting sharply against the sky, their jagged edges slicing through the fluffy clouds above.

He’d always been fascinated by those brutalist giants, with their bold, no-nonsense lines. They took him straight to the world of sci-fi movies as he got lost in the grid patterns of the surrounding buildings, scanning the balconies arranged in a gravity-defying architectural ballet.

The place never got old, no matter how many times Aaron came here.

He’d often scratched his head over the maze-like layout.

He could see where he wanted to go, but getting there always involved a mad dash of ups, downs, and loads of twists and turns.

He figured some genius had dreamed up the structure, an endless loop that always spat him back where he started.

The sky-high walkways didn’t make things any easier, linking identical buildings, distinguished only by the occasional plant hanging on the railing.

How odd to see bits of green in such a grey landscape. It seemed out of place. Much like himself.

But for Aaron, the combination of green and grey had its own charm. It made him think of places from myths and bedtime stories reminiscent of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. A place as fantastical as Neverland.

A brief smile crossed his face, but it didn’t stick around for long.

It was time to say goodbye—to the city, to this life, and maybe even to Tori.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket, but this time, a message from Aunt Olivia flashed on the screen.

Aunt Olivia: Coming back for dinner?

Dragging his feet, Aaron made his way towards the exit. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he passed a bewildered group trying to navigate the maze of pathways.

Once he stepped outside, the familiar noise of the city hit him—the constant buzz of traffic, bursts of laughter spilling out from nearby pubs, and the occasional distant wail of an ambulance siren.

Heading to the Tube station, Aaron moved mechanically, phone in hand to swipe through the turnstile, a quick dash down the left side of the escalator, and an agile pivot towards the platform where the train would whisk him back to Aunt Olivia’s.

*

A s he entered the Greenwich area, Aaron breathed deeply, taking in the first teeth-baring bite of the autumn evening air. Leaves crunched under his quick steps as he continued into quiet side streets, all lined with red-brick houses. After a series of lookalike facades, he stopped at a black door.

This had been his home for the last three years.

Aaron slid his key into the lock and, with his other hand, held the slightly shaky, still-not-fixed doorknob. That little inconvenience had always bugged him, but now, something weird twisted in his gut. This was it. He wouldn’t have to deal with the dodgy doorknob any longer.

He stepped inside to the sound of a film on the telly seeping along the corridor, the usual romcom Aunt Olivia loved.

Aaron slipped off his shoes and crept up the stairs, taking them two at a time, careful not to make any of the steps creak.

He retreated to his room, which was as cold as the half-full mugs of peppermint tea he often forgot around the house, and was relieved to find everything as he’d left it that morning: his messy bed with bunched-up sheets, an empty duffle bag on the edge of the mattress, and the wardrobe doors flung wide open.

Aaron grabbed the few garments he owned—white T-shirts, grey hoodies, dark jeans, and joggers—and tossed them into the bag.

Most of his clothes, worn from too many washes, needed replacing.

Yet, as long as they held together, he kept them.

While he continued to fill the bag, a light tap on the door forced him to stop for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of long brown hair as Aunt Olivia slipped inside.

“I’m crashing at Cliff’s tonight.” He didn’t bother to turn around. “It’s easier to get to Heathrow from there.”

“Have you taken everything you need for your trip?” Aunt Olivia asked eagerly, her voice light and playful as she came closer, dragging her bare feet on the carpet. It seemed as though she was the one going.

Aaron mumbled in agreement and kept arranging his belongings silently, then closed the zipper with satisfaction.

“I’m so excited for you!” she chirped, plopping onto the edge of the bed and crossing her legs.

The bedframe creaked slightly as the mattress dipped under her weight, making the bag tilt.

“A little adventure with Cliff before uni is exactly what you need. I can’t wait to hear all about the beautiful places you’ll visit in Australia! ”

Aaron glanced at the pictures on the wall, which showed all the beautiful places his sister had wished to see, including koalas and the Southern Lights.

He stiffened and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling hard to let air pass, then slipped underneath to scratch the itchy, damaged skin on his chest.

“Aarie.” Aunt Olivia grabbed his arm. “Pause for a second and sit down with me.”

His agitation eased at her touch. He set the bag down and slumped beside her, hunching forward with his face buried in his hands.

Breathing in and out rhythmically, he attempted to steady his hammering heart and prevent it from bursting forth from his chest. The comforting warmth of his aunt’s hand on his back grounded him to the present, gradually stilling his trembling.

Aaron lifted his face, letting his hands come to rest on his thighs. He scanned the room, seeking another grounding point. He settled on the shelf above the desk, brimming with books. One spine caught his attention.

The awful shade of green stood out. Green like the pendant he wore, green as the leaves that seemed the same to him every season, green as the hope that had fractured within him after the accident.