It's Just a Movie - The Sequel: Part 17 (The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)
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Warnings: cursing, no Boyz, we are in the exposition era
“See ya, man!” Sam called to some of his classmates as he mounted his bike.
It was sky blue with white wheels, and his pride and joy. It'd been a surprise, gifted to him after their family's sudden financial change with Max's inheritance. Well, Sam was a little fuzzy on the details, but, however it happened, Video Max had almost made the entire vampire fiasco worth it. The radio had been a gift from his brother. It was a little Ricatech radio that played cassettes too, not that he had many. Michael and Star borrowed it half the time, and he left it on the classics station Michael had turned it to. ‘Spooky’ by the Classics IV filled the air as he dodged pedestrians.
He sped through the streets of Santa Carla, passing punks, hippies, and regular beach bums alike. Santa Carla was the kind of place where he could wear whatever he wanted and still not be the weirdest person on the street. He even considered getting a face piercing, but he knew the Frogs wouldn't ever let him walk around a day with it. But, today wasn't just a day with the Frogs.
Today was a day with you.
He remembered the first time he'd ever met you at the comic book store. He couldn't have known it then, but you'd been listening in on their conversation, browsing over the comics like you were too cool for the three of them. Truthfully, he thought you were.
The first thing you'd said to him, Don't listen to the Frogs. It'd struck his mind. Of course he wouldn't, he'd wanted to say. A couple of crack pot army wannabes were preaching about vampires? Yeah, reliable source. He'd tried to think of something to say back, but you were walking out before he'd even had a chance. You were the first not-freakazoid person he'd ever met in Santa Carla, and you'd totally ditched him. It only made you cooler, if he was honest.
He was musing now, missing the days when it felt like you were vampire hunters together. Even if he knew he could never say that aloud with the truce.
It was just that- They'd gotten you back, but it wasn't like he ever got to see you. You slept through the days, went out at night, and the only time he actually got to talk to you was when you were half asleep over your eggs. It was better when the boys were around, honestly. At least then you'd talk to him while at home.
But, lately, you'd been different. Quieter. Secretive. Or, maybe, you weren't different at all.
You did lie to them about everything last summer, but he never held a grudge. You'd had to. Life and death, and all that. It was just that, now, it felt like the only one that got a report was Grandpa. Part of him knew why. To protect him, he mocked in his head. Well, screw that. If what Marko said was true, I don't need protection. He thought to himself. He didn't realize how dangerous of a thought that was.
His bike led him through the bends of each street, biking down High Street all the way to downtown. While he’d usually turn off onto Coolidge to get home from the highschool, Sam decided to make a pit stop in the downtown area. He passed record stores, bookstores, and a club where the old bowling alley apparently used to be. He dropped his bike outside the local church, and hopped the steps two at a time. When inside, he nodded at the nun in the far corner. He didn't catch her rolling her eyes as he dipped a bottle into the holy water.
It was a small spray cologne bottle, something he'd swiped from his Grandpa's bathroom. While he couldn't say anything with the current truce, that didn't mean he had to be unprepared.
Once it was full, he screwed on the top and gave the nun a quick after-thought of a wave and then clasped hands at her. She didn't seem very impressed.
He biked back to grandfather's house standing up on the pedals, racing through the streets as his backpack swayed with him. His leg muscles strained as he tried to get himself up the long drive way, and eventually he hopped off the bike to run it the rest of the way. He practically bulldozed the screen door down, dodging his Mom's cries about not slamming it to run straight up to your room. At the sound of his steps retreating towards the stairs, his mom called,
“Sam!” But he didn't care. This was his night with you, and he wanted to hang out with you before the Frogs had a chance to come over. But, he was caught by the handle of his bag just as his hand grabbed the bannister, and he was yanked back by his one and only older brother.
“Mike!” Sam whined, but Michael beat him to his ramble of complaints.
“You want your head bitten off? C'mon, man. See what Mom wants.” And Sam groaned as he turned on his heel. Michael knew exactly where he'd been headed, and he trudged towards the kitchen instead. He put his bag and radio down on the table, and Laddie smiled at him up through his bangs and over his plate of peanut butter apple slices.
“Yes, mom?” He said, trying and failing to keep the attitude out of his voice. He let his backpack slip off his shoulders and into the chair.
“Now, Sam, I made you dinner to eat before you go out because I don't want you filling up on junk,” She was a whirl through the kitchen as she pulled the dinner out of the fridge and set it on the counter. “And, I'll be at the store all night, so, if you need me, you'll have to call there. The number’s on the table.” She said, gesturing towards the piece of paper.
“I know the number to the store, Mom.” Sams voice was snippety as he responded, but his mother didn't even seem to notice. He picked it up anyways, thinking of you as he pocketed it. You were bad when it came to memorizing numbers.
“I already told her that I want you boys back by eleven, and that I really don't want you boys on the boardwalk, so please, Sam, don't give her a hard time. There's cash on the table for popcorn,” She was rambling, but it wasn't Sam that cut her off this time.
“And, stakes in the center console if you need ‘em.” Grandpa said, and then let out a laugh. Lucy sent him a glare, and Sam smiled.
“Dad.” Lucy said, her hands going to her hips. She shook her head as she turned her back to them to resume her tornado around the kitchen.
“I'm only kidding.” He said, waving a hand at her before clapping it on Sam's shoulder. Lowly, he said to him, “I keep the stakes in the glove box.” And Sam had to muffle his laugh when his Mom turned back around. She narrowed her eyes, and the two quickly gave her their most innocent expressions. She looked between them, before turning her back to them again. After a moment, the two laughed silently and left before she could see.
***
Your eyes flicked open the moment the sun sank below the horizon. You sat up with a yawn, but your exhaustion quickly pulled away from your mind like the blinds shot up the window. You looked out at the night sky, the stars sparkling above. The moon hung high, a crescent hidden behind the trees around Grandpa's property. Sunlight and the days were blinding, but the stars and the moon were a warm, clear glow to your eyes. Before the blood, nights could only be lit up by the fluorescent lights of street lamps or the many bulbs on the boardwalk. Now, as you looked out at the California hills, you could see for miles. Part of you knew that tonight was not going to go well, even if it was a dull inkling in the back of your mind. A small voice that pulled you along, a gut feeling. The girls would be expecting you, and you were going to ditch. The thought of how they might react made the hairs on your arms stand up, and you silently let go of the string to let the blinds fall.
You started to feel like the night was looking back at you, and you knew, very well, that it could be. You looked at the door before Sam banged on it. He yelled,
“Get up! Get dressed or we’re gonna miss the movie!” Even if you could’ve heard him if he’d whispered it all the way downstairs.
“Yeah, yeah! I'm up, Sam. Jeez.” You muttered the last part under your breath as you went for the door to your shared bathroom with Star. The light was already on, and, as you grabbed your toothbrush, Sam leaned himself into the open door to the landing. He was rambling, but you weren't quite listening. Something about vampires, something about the movie. Eventually, you just had to shut the door in his face because you needed to change. You reached for your stereo, and turned it up to drown out Sam’s protests.
Blending in meant a very specific thing in Santa Cruz, and, while you usually kept it casual, something was making you gravitate towards a very specific jacket in your closet.
It was thick black leather, the kind you could hardly find in the modern times. At least, not without paying an arm and a leg. You'd thrifted it, knowing it had to belong to some ex-greaser from the 50s. It'd been your passion project the past few weeks. You’d stuck pins and spikes wherever they could fit, and forego any chances of flying under the radar when you saw a Bride of Frankenstein T-shirt at the thrift. Maybe it was too on the nose, but it made a great back patch. You added a little red paint and drew the words, Dead Girl, on the back to make it look like it was written in blood. Yeah, it was definitely obvious, but whatever happened to hiding in plain sight?
The jacket hugged you as you walked out of your room, and a black sabbath cut off T-shirt peaked out underneath. Your boots made your footsteps heavy as you walked down the hallway, and you slid down the bannister with a grace only possible by being able to fly now.
You caught something whirling towards you, and the clanging of the keys hitting your hand told you what they were before you looked. You looked at Grandpa, and he let out his signature laugh. Your sunglasses fell from the top of your head down over your eyes, shielding them as you said,
“Careful, old-timer.” With your own growing grin. The shades, the jacket, your blue-jeans? You were only a few pieces off from Michael's look, but with infinitely more style. You thought so, at least. You wore bangles and necklaces that jingled in your ears, and two tied bracelets around your wrist. Even if you hadn't seen your boys in weeks, you wouldn't take them off. And, you couldn't forget your earrings. The girls had practically held you down as they pierced your lobes. You wore long dangly earrings, and then a row of smaller hoops marking three piercings on each ear. You glanced at your fading reflection, before you shifted towards the door. It was easy to corral the boys into Grandpa's car, and, as you peeled out of the driveway, you let Sam fiddle with the radio. Though, your eyes shifted off the road when Sam said,
“It's this same damn song again.” And the Classics IV filled the air. You glanced at him, and watched as he unceremoniously skipped to the next station. The next station was something more Sam's speed. 80s synth rock. It could be a coincidence. It could. You stared ahead at the dark, one hand on the wheel as you bit your nail between your teeth. But, as you turned the music up, you silently decided against it.
A possibility began to swirl in your mind. One you didn't bother to share with the boys yet. But, knowing the original movie, 'Spooky' reminded you a bit too much of a specific opening song. And, if Sam had already heard it... You didn't know what that meant yet, but a possibility stuck to your mind. The wind whipped in your ears as you thought, This could be only the beginning.
