“So, you’re… A… plant… Person?” WW’s dad was sitting at the kitchen table, staring across it at WW and Pan. Him and his wife had fallen into stunned silence when they’d seen Pan, flowers and all.

“Yes.” Pan nodded awkwardly. His heart was beating irregularly, and he wrung his hands together. Just keep breathing… He told himself. He’d never been around this many humans, before. Or, rather… Any.

“And you have magic powers.” WW’s dad continued.

“Yes, in relation to plants, mostly.”

“He can grow them spontaneously. Little ones.” WW chimed in from his place next to Pan. “Long story short, he can’t go home until his people come to get him,” If my people come to get me… Pan thought with a frown, “Can he stay with us for a while?”

WW’s parents exchanged a look. “Um…” His dad mumbled.

“I-I mean…?” His mom shrugged.

“Y-Yeah? I-I guess we can’t just leave the poor guy out on his own in a place he doesn’t know?”

“That would be mean.” She nodded slowly.

“He’s got to help out around the garden if he stays more than a few days though.” Again, Pan grinned at the thought.

“I will! Gladly!” He bobbed his head enthusiastically, “I would love to! Th-This is very kind of you, to let me stay.”

“I guess… He can stay in the spare room?” The dad suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll go… Um… Get some sheets for it.” The mom stood and immediately walked away.

Silence fell over the three men. WW’s dad folded his hands over his lap, his shoulders hunched awkwardly as he looked over at the two boys. Even Pan’s smile faded at the discomfort that weighed down on their shoulders. The only one who seemed unaffected was WW, whose expression remained neutral, unchanged. “I-I’m going to go help your mom.” WW’s dad announced suddenly, standing and chasing after his wife.

“Bye.” WW smirked, and stood. “I’m hungry… Do you want a glass of water or something? I’m gonna make myself a sandwich.” His smirk fell away as he wandered over to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t you rather wait?” His mom called from where she was at the bottom of the stairs, bed sheets already in hand, “I’m going to be making dinner just as soon as I set up the room!”

“Want me to do it so you can get on the food thing? I didn’t eat lunch. W-Wasn’t hungry.” He added the last part hastily as he made his way over to her.

His mom groaned and put a hand on her hip. “Wesley, we’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed as he took the sheets from her hand. “Let me do this, and you can go cook. I’ll even help you when I’m done.”

His mother’s eyes were the same ice blue as his own and staring at him with an expression he knew all too well. Disappointment. “Is it too much to ask that you take care of yourself?”

“I wasn’t hungry.” WW said again, seriously. “I said I’m sorry.”

“You know you’ve got to keep eat—"

“I know, okay? I just wasn’t hungry! It’s not that big of a deal! Be like Elsa and let it goooo!” He groaned before storming up the stairs with the sheets in hand.

Pan looked away when WW’s mom turned her attention to him, as if he hadn’t listened to the entire awkward exchange. His mom was a rather strong looking woman. Beautiful, and no less intimidating than her son. She sighed and pointed up the stairs. “Go after him so you know where the room is.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.” Pan nodded, quickly jumping to his feet and doing as he was told. He didn’t question WW’s relation to her. The nearly-black hair, the soft, young face, and those eyes… Those were all from her. He had a little more trouble believing the young man’s relation to the bubbly man with curly blond hair, round glasses, sharp features and a crooked, nervous smile. He decided that he liked WW’s father the most out of the three. He was the only one who didn’t terrify him.

He followed the sounds of heavy steps until he reached the third of four doors in the upstairs hallway. It was mostly shut, but he pushed it open carefully and peered in. “Uh… WW? Can I come in?” He couldn’t recognise the small voice coming from his mouth.

WW, in all his thin, short fury, was angrily making the bed. He’d dropped the comforter and top sheet on a chair and had taken the fitted sheet. “The door’s open.” He huffed, not looking away from the sheet. He shook it unfolded.

The thought of joining him in the rather small room scared Pan, if he was being honest. But nevertheless, he stepped into the room where the furious man in the pastel crop top was wrestling with sheets.