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ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴛᴏᴡ

david powers (the lost boys) x female!reader

mix of movie version and broadway musical

warnings (contains spoilers): blood, graphic transformation, seizures/convulsions, temporary hearing loss, near death, forced blood feeding, possessive behavior, coercion, unhealthy relationship dynamics, suggestive ending

word count: 5.9k

synopsis: david has never been good at letting go. tonight, holding on might be the thing that breaks you both.

The cave was too quiet for two in the morning.

Usually, by then, the sunken hotel was deafening. Paul would be hanging upside down from the iron rafters, throwing empty beer cans at Marko's head, while the turntable blasted some local garage band from a record they’d stolen off the boardwalk. Sitting halfway up the ruined staircase, Dwayne would be turning a beer bottle lazily between his fingers, his dark eyes tracking every movement in the room.

David was always right behind you. His chin would rest against your shoulder, cold breath stirring your hair as he made fun of whatever you were trying to read.

Tonight, they were all out on the boardwalk. You'd stayed behind because your eyelids had gotten heavy around midnight, and David had only laughed, pressing a cold kiss to your forehead before telling you to stay put.

“Don’t let the sun catch you,” he’d murmured, his low, ragged drawl making the warning sound almost teasing.

You tried to sleep on the pile of mattresses in the back alcove, but the quiet wouldn’t let you. Without Paul and Marko shouting over each other or boots scraping against stone, the cave seemed to stretch wider around you, every drip of seawater suddenly close enough to count. You’d gotten used to the noise. David’s voice was usually the last thing you heard.

Eventually, you gave up on sleep and wandered into the main cavern, the damp stone cold beneath your bare feet. The boys had left the place exactly as they always did: Dwayne’s leather vest hung from the corner of the pool table, one of Marko’s comics lying open nearby. A crushed beer can rolled beneath your foot before you nudged it toward the stairs.

The old bar gave you somewhere to go. Beside the bottles sat a stack of scrap paper, along with the half-broken pen you’d started using to leave the boys notes whenever they were out. They made a show of complaining each time they found one, but you had never actually seen any of them throw one away.

Dwayne, you wrote in messy print, pinning the note beneath one of Paul’s empty bottles. Make him clean these up. One day I’m going to grab the wrong drink and poison myself.

On the next scrap, you drew a crooked stick figure crushed beneath a stack of comic books. Marko, if I break my neck on one of these, I’m haunting you.

The last one went in the center of the pool table, right where David would see it the second he walked in:

David. You're late. If you don't bring back my fries, you’re sleeping alone.

You added a small, crooked heart beneath it, the lines coming out a little sloppier than you meant them to.

When you straightened, the room swayed with you. The scent of salt and wet sand drifted in on a cold draft. Dawn was still hours away; without the boys, the silence made it feel even farther.

A yawn caught in your throat. The cherry wine you’d been sneaking earlier had left your head pleasantly light and your tongue coated with a cheap sweetness.

You needed something to wash it down.

Turning from the table, your foot nudged a loose record near the back wall. It scraped across the stone, drawing your eye to a heavy silver chalice tucked beside a stack of records. The chalice’s tarnished sides were carved with designs you couldn’t place, and something dark and thick filled it almost to the brim, catching the weak flicker of the candles.

You didn’t think twice. The boys left half-finished drinks everywhere, and in the dim light, it looked enough like the spiced cider that vendors sold near the pier in winter—dark and thick, usually sweet.

David had watched you drain a cup too quickly once before. You recalled the corner of his mouth lifting. “Easy, baby. It’s not going anywhere.”

The memory pulled a faint smile from you as you reached for the chalice.

Expecting cinnamon and apple to cut through the wine, you tipped the chalice back and drank until there was nothing left. Only then did you lower it, the silver rim dragging slowly against your lip, a frown already tugging at your mouth before you understood why.

That wasn’t cider.

Something thick, almost syrupy, and bitter coated the back of your throat—wrong in a way that made your stomach turn. Like pennies dissolved in spoiled wine, ice-cold going down.

“Gross,” you rasped, dragging the back of your hand across your mouth. You set the chalice beside David’s note and turned toward the bar, hoping a mouthful of water would wash the taste away.

You made it two steps.

Your fingers had barely grazed the counter when your knees buckled. Pain tore through the center of your chest so suddenly that your breath caught before you could make a sound. You hit the floor hard, your shoulder scraping across the stone as you curled in on yourself.

Your heart hammered against your ribs in a frantic, uneven rhythm. The sound swallowed everything else—the tide outside, the beams creaking overhead, even your own breathing. You clawed at your collar while the room blurred at the edges, candlelight smearing into darkness.

The chill of the stone barely registered beneath the heat tearing through you. It spread outward from your chest in brutal waves, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your arms jerked against the stone, followed by your legs, until your entire body was shaking so violently your teeth knocked together. The pain gave you nowhere to go.

You opened your mouth to scream.

Nothing came out.

Above you, on the pool table, the chalice sat exactly where you'd left it, one thin line of black-red liquid sliding slowly down its side.

And you were completely alone in the dark.

The heavy iron doors groaned open at the top of the stairs. Boots followed, pounding down the steps as the boys spilled back into the cave.

Paul's laugh reached the bottom first. He kicked a stray beer can across the floor and watched it vanish under the pool table. “I'm telling you, Dwayne, the guy was ready to cry before I even pulled the chain.”

“He was an idiot.” Dwayne's voice came low from somewhere behind him. “Should've stayed off the boardwalk after midnight.”

Marko came down humming a song they’d heard blasting from one of the boardwalk stalls, a stolen silk scarf looped around one hand. He tossed it toward the bar without looking.

“Where's our girl? Thought she'd be waiting up to see what we—”

The smell hit first, something sharp cutting under the salt and stale smoke, and Marko stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. Paul nearly walked into his back.

Nobody said a word. Whatever was left of the night's good mood vanished all at once.

Then David saw you, crumpled near the bar.

He tore across the room before anyone else could react, dropping to his knees at your side. Your shirt clung damply to your skin, your whole body shaking. His eyes swept over you once before catching on the chalice.

It sat empty on the billiard table, right beside your note. A single dark drop had slid down the silver and landed on the crooked heart.

“...David.” Marko's voice had lost all its music. “That was full.”

David reached for your hand, but his fingers froze at your wrist. Your pulse hammered wildly beneath his thumb, your arm jerking so hard in his grip that he had to hold on tighter.

“Paul.” He didn’t look up. “Get blankets. All of them.”

“We didn't mean to leave it out, we didn't—”

“Now.”

Paul was already moving, boots stomping against stone as he vanished toward the alcove.

David slid one arm beneath your shoulders and the other around your waist, lifting you from the freezing floor and against his chest. The moment he pulled you close, your hands seized the front of his jacket, fingers twisting hard into the leather. The cold of his skin dulled the heat for a few precious seconds, and you pressed closer before you even realized you were doing it.

“Easy.” His mouth grazed your temple as he gathered you into his lap. “I’ve got you.”

Another tremor ripped through you, pulling a strangled gasp from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breath catching against his skin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes barely opened.

“There you are.” His thumb brushed away the tear caught beneath your eye. “Stay with me.”

Dwayne crouched beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder as another tremor tore through your body. His eyes drifted to the empty chalice on the table, then back to David.

He leaned in, his voice pitched low, meant only for David’s ears.

It didn’t matter. You heard every word.

“She drank all of it, David. Every drop.”

David’s hand went still against you. For once, he had nothing to say.

“She's fighting it too hard.” Dwayne's jaw stayed clenched as you twitched under his palm. “Her body's trying to fight the change instead of letting it happen. She keeps this up, she's not going to make it.”

David pulled you closer. “How long?”

“A few hours. Maybe less.” Dwayne pulled his hand back. “Keep her close.”

Pain surged through you before David could answer, dragging a broken sob out of your throat. His hand found the back of your head at once, holding your face to his chest while the shaking took you under again.

Paul reappeared with his arms full of heavy quilts, dropping to his knees beside you both. Any trace of the bravado Paul had carried through the night was gone.

“Here.”

David took them without a word, wrapping the blankets around your shoulders one at a time before pulling you back into the shelter of his own jacket. Your teeth chattered somewhere near his ear.

“Shh.” His hand slid into your hair, tucking your face into the hollow of his throat. “Don't waste your strength fighting it.”

“I'm sorry,” Paul whispered.

David's eyes cut to the chalice one more time. Later.

For now, he bent his head until his forehead met yours, his breath cool against your burning skin.

“You’re going to wake up.” Each word came quiet and deliberate. “And I’ll be right here when you do.”

“I told you to clear the table.”

Dwayne's voice reached you before anything else did.

For a while, you couldn’t place where you were. Something soft cushioned your cheek, fingers combing slowly through your hair. You tried to move, but your body stayed heavy against the couch. Even your eyelids barely stirred.

“I know, all right?” Paul snapped from somewhere nearby. “I know.”

“You leave your shit everywhere.”

“I forgot. The sun went down and we were just ready to get the hell out of here. I just wasn't thinking.”

Your head rested in David’s lap, one hand cupped loosely around the back of your neck. When your eyes finally cracked open, you found him staring past the couch toward the others, his expression unreadable.

“I didn’t think she’d drink it.” Paul’s voice dropped. “Why the hell would I think she’d drink it?”

Nobody answered. Somewhere near the billiard table, you heard the sharp crack of a pool stick snapping in half.

“She’s always over by the table when we’re gone.” Paul’s boots scraped restlessly against the stone. “And I left it right there. Right where she always waits for us.”

“Paulie,” Marko frowned.

“You think I don’t know?”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah.” Paul bit down hard on his lip. “Still happened.”

David's fingers tightened once in your hair. His eyes stayed fixed on Paul.

You tried to shift. Pain stirred beneath your ribs and stopped you cold, a weak breath catching in your throat.

“Paul...”

The room went silent.

David’s attention snapped down to you. His hand shifted from the back of your neck to cradle your cheek.

“There you are.”

His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “Easy. Don't move yet.”

Paul came around the couch, his face wrong without its usual grin. His hair was pushed back, as if he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. “Hey, kid. You’re okay, see? Tough as hell.”

You reached for him, but your arm barely lifted. David slipped a hand beneath it and helped you close the distance, letting your fingers catch on Paul’s sleeve.

“Not his fault,” you whispered.

David's mouth tightened.

“David.”

“I heard you.”

“He’s our brother.” Your fingers curled weakly into Paul’s sleeve. “Please.”

His gaze rose to Paul, and the silence between them stretched long enough that Paul looked away first.

“He’s fine,” David said at last. “Nobody’s touching him.”

Some of the strain left your grip.

Paul crouched beside you. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“...You owe me.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

Your throat scratched as you spoke. “A prize.”

“A prize?”

“The biggest one on the boardwalk.”

A weak laugh escaped him. “Yeah. All right.”

“Not one of the ugly ones.”

“I'll win you whatever you want.”

Marko leaned over the back of the couch, some of the tension finally draining from his face. “You're going to regret giving her that much power.”

A faint ringing pressed in behind his voice.

Paul answered him. His first few words came through muffled, the rest fading until only his mouth kept moving.

The drip of water somewhere in the tunnels grew quieter, then disappeared. The scrape of boots against stone went with it.

You swallowed, waiting for the sound to return.

It didn’t.

You looked up at David. His mouth was moving too, but no words reached you.

“David?”

You felt yourself shape his name. You couldn't hear that either.

David stopped mid-sentence. His eyes searched yours, and the calm he’d been holding onto vanished.

Pressure gathered behind your breastbone, dragging the last of your air out with it. Your heart stumbled beneath the weight. One beat came late; the next barely came at all.

Your fingers slipped from Paul’s sleeve. David caught your hand before it fell against the cushion.

Then your body seized.

Dwayne rushed around the couch and braced your shoulders, holding you down through the shaking. Marko rushed to grab a cloth from the coffee table, which he pressed beneath your nose. It felt damp and cold. You weren’t sure why.

Paul leaned over you, shouting something you couldn’t hear. His hands hovered near your face, afraid to touch you but unable to pull away.

Your vision narrowed around him until everything else began to disappear.

David’s eyes cut toward the stairs.

Then he was gone.

The cold beneath your head vanished with him. You tried to turn, but another convulsion locked your body against the couch.

Dwayne’s hands closed around your shoulders. Marko leaned over you with the cloth, wiping at the blood gathering along your mouth. His lips moved, but the silence remained.

You blinked.

Dwayne was still there.

Another blink, and the cloth in Marko’s hand was stained crimson. You couldn’t remember watching it change.

Time stopped making sense after that. Seconds might have passed. Minutes. Hours. There was only the pressure of Dwayne holding you down, Paul hovering over you, Marko's face drifting in and out, and the crushing pause between one breath and the next.

Somewhere above the old stairs, the boardwalk lay still under the first gray light of day.

At some point, the edges of the cave disappeared.

Then David was there again.

He hit his knees beside the couch hard enough to jolt it. Fresh blood spilled from his mouth, running down his chin and soaking straight through the collar of his shirt. His jaw was clenched so hard the bone looked ready to crack, every muscle in his face pulled tight with the near-rabid strain of fighting his own instinct to swallow.

The boys backed away from the couch, giving him room.

David slipped one hand beneath the back of your head and caught your jaw with the other. He couldn’t speak—not with his mouth flooded with blood—but the panic in his face was impossible to miss as he bent over you.

You tried to open your mouth. Nothing happened.

His thumb dug into the hinge of your jaw until it gave.

“Stay with me, angel,” you could hear his voice somehow echoing in the back of your mind. Then his mouth sealed over yours.

The sharp edge of his fangs scraped against your lips, pressing deep into the meat of your tongue as warm, thick blood poured across it.

Your throat seized against the coppery taste, but David held you steady, his teeth catching your lower lip when you tried to move away. He refused to pull back until you finally swallowed.

Once. Then again.

Pain tore through the center of your chest. Your heart slammed once against David’s chest, then faltered.

Before another beat could follow, everything went black.

The bottle shattered before you opened your eyes.

Glass scattered across the cave floor, the sound splitting through your skull like something amplified. Somewhere nearby, a pair of boots stopped short in the grit.

“David, I was just—”

Paul. You recognized his voice before the ache in your head let you place anything else.

“Back up.” David's answer came from directly behind you, low enough to vibrate through his chest before the words reached you.

Numbness pooled along your spine as you tried to lift your head, pain flashing behind your eyes. You winced, the sound catching in your throat.

One of David’s cold hands closed around the back of your neck, pulling you firmly against him. For just a second, his eyes went soft in a way his grip didn't match, gone before you could notice.

“Stay down.”

The order came quiet and clipped.

Deep inside the cave, the air had gone flat and still. Outside, the sun hung over the ocean, keeping all of you buried underground.

At some point, when it was still night, you must’ve collapsed against him. You couldn’t remember doing it. The pain had blurred everything after David forced the blood down your throat. Now, he sat at the end of the couch with you slumped between his legs, one arm drawn around your waist to keep you upright, your head fallen into the crook of his neck. Both of your hands lay open in your lap, one loosely covered by his.

You tried to move your fingers. Nothing happened.

“I was bringing this over.” Paul shifted a folded blanket in his arms.

Your eyes struggled to open.

The cavern returned in pieces: candlelight, the worn couch beneath you, David’s throat against your cheek. You could make out dust particles floating in the air, and every crack carved into the stone floor seemed deeper than you remembered.

Blood had dried all over David’s skin and vanished beneath his collar. More of it had soaked stiff into the fabric where your face pressed against it. Dark traces still clung under his fingernails.

Across the cavern, the boys stood near the billiard table.

Dwayne had placed himself in front, arms crossed over his chest. Paul and Marko stayed just behind him near the ruined stairs. None of them had moved closer since the bottle shattered.

They hadn't backed away, either.

David watched them over your head, hardly blinking. His arm stayed locked across your waist, each shallow breath pushing his chest into your back.

“Sun's up,” Dwayne called out. “We're stuck down here together. You need to calm down.”

“He needs to stay away from her.”

“He is away from her.”

Paul shifted beside him. “I was bringing her a blanket.”

David's arm tightened.

“I wanted to see if she was breathing,” Paul gritted out. “That's it.”

“Not another step.”

“For fuck’s sake, David—”

Before Paul could move forward, Dwayne threw an arm across his chest. Blocked from getting any closer, Paul kept his eyes fixed on the couch.

“We’re worried about her too.” His voice came out quieter now. “Stop acting like we’re trying to hurt her.”

David's fingers flexed at the back of your neck.

Dwayne's eyes dropped briefly to the arm locked around your middle. “Look at what you're doing.”

David went still.

“She's awake. You brought her back." Dwayne's voice had lost its edge, gone almost gentle. "Let her breathe.”

“You don't tell me what to do.”

“Someone has to!” Marko’s voice cut through the cavern. He stepped out from behind Dwayne, his face stripped of its usual mischief. His eyes dropped to David’s grip at your throat. “Look at what you’re doing to her, man! She’s not Michael, and she sure as hell isn’t Star—she’s not trying to run, David! Let her fucking breathe!”

The silence stretched, unbroken only by the drip of water somewhere deep in the tunnels. The fight drained from Marko’s face almost as soon as the words left him. He stepped back, but there was no taking them back now.

David's eyes dropped to where his hand rested against your neck.

For one suspended second, his fingers loosened. Horror flickered across his face and was swallowed just as fast.

His arm tightened around your middle and pulled you flush against him. The hand at your neck slid behind your head, drawing you into the curve of his shoulder until there was no space left between your bodies. He held you there, face buried against his cold skin, as if closeness alone could fix everything.

You tried to turn your mouth toward the air.

“Can't—”

The broken sound caught his attention immediately. David’s fingers tightened in your hair, smoothing over the back of your head while he kept you pressed against him.

“Stay still.” His mouth brushed your temple. “Don't look at them.”

The arm around your waist tightened again, and you couldn't breathe right with him holding you like that. Couldn't move. Couldn't even turn your head without his hand following it.

Panic hit before you could think. Your arms barely responded when you forced them off your lap, both palms catching on the blood-stiff front of David’s shirt. You shoved.

He barely moved.

Heat flashed through your chest. Before you understood what was happening, strength tore through your arms and you pushed again. This time, his hold broke. Your weight carried you sideways off the couch.

Your feet struck the stone, but your knees buckled before you could catch yourself. You hit the floor hard, grit scraping into your palms as you caught yourself. A burst of pain tore through your chest, sharp enough to steal the breath you'd just managed to find.

David was on the floor beside you before you’d drawn another one.

One hand caught under your arm as the other braced your waist, hauling you upright before you could go down completely. Your legs folded uselessly beneath you the moment he let go even an inch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your fingers clawed weakly at his wrist. “Too—” The word broke apart on your breath. “Tight.”

David froze.

“Crushing me.”

His grip broke instantly. You sagged forward, and his palms returned to your sides without closing around them.

“I heard your heart stop.” His voice dropped lower than you’d ever heard it. “Twice.”

You looked away.

His hand rose to your jaw, turning you back toward him, gentler this time. “Look at me.”

You didn't have the strength left to refuse him.

“I'm not watching you hit that floor again.” His thumb rested under your chin. “You don't move away from me. Not tonight.”

Your head began to fall before you could answer. David caught it against his chest, one hand spreading over the back of your skull, tucking you beneath his chin.

The cave went dead quiet.

“Leave the blanket.” He broke the silence without lifting his head.

Dwayne held out his hand. Paul didn’t move at first, his fingers still twisted into the wool, eyes fixed on you.

“Paul.” Dwayne’s hand shifted, catching Paul’s shoulder with a heavy pressure.

After a moment, Paul surrendered the blanket to him.

Dwayne crossed the space and laid it over the arm of the couch. David watched every inch of it, silent.

Paul lingered near the table. “You sure she’s—”

“She’s breathing, yeah,” Dwayne told him.

Paul’s eyes found you one last time. Whatever argument remained died on his tongue before he gave a reluctant nod and let Dwayne steer him toward the stairs. Marko followed, walking backward for the first few steps before finally turning into the tunnels.

Their footsteps faded into the tunnels, each one still painfully clear. Near the stairs, glass grated beneath a boot. Somewhere deeper in the cave, water struck stone, every drop setting you on edge.

You shut your eyes and let your head sink against David.

His hand moved over your hair. “What is it?”

“Too loud.”

“The boys?”

“Everything.”

Even the faint scrape of his rings caught painfully against your hearing when his fingers shifted near your ear. Your breath hitched.

David moved at once, sliding an arm beneath your knees while the other supported your shoulders. The floor dropped away as he lifted you against his chest.

Your hand caught weakly in the front of his shirt.

“Where’re we…”

“Somewhere quiet.”

Far above, boardwalk music began to seep down the old elevator shaft. The sun had finally gone down.

David carried you beyond the billiard table, into a part of the cave you had never seen. Candlelight faded behind you. The walls narrowed, turning the sound of his boots into a dull echo.

You buried your face in the curve of his neck. The cold helped. His mouth touched your hair once before the passage opened into a small chamber.

David ducked beneath the low stone arch and knelt, lowering you onto the mattress that nearly filled the room, layered with wool blankets and worn velvet.

The moment his arms left you, your fingers hooked into his shirt.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Nowhere yet.”

“Yet?”

David ignored the question. He pulled a leather jacket from the crate beside the mattress and spread it over you, covering you from shoulders to knees. The leather was cold, far too large, and still smelled faintly of tobacco and dried blood.

“Stay here.”

You frowned up at him. “I can’t exactly run, David.”

“I just spent twelve hours pulling you back from the dead.” His voice caught slightly before he forced it steady again. “Forgive me if I’m being specific.”

The calm he usually wore so easily had slipped. David sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed the hair from your forehead. After a moment, his fingers returned to the pulse at your neck.

Up close, the blood on him had dried nearly black. It marked the corner of his mouth and disappeared beneath his jaw.

Only then did you notice none of it remained on you. Your lips were clean, and so was the skin beneath your nose, though you had no memory of anyone wiping the blood away.

“You look awful,” you murmured.

“You should’ve seen yourself.”

Your eyes moved over his stained collar again. “You cleaned me up.”

David said nothing.

“You could’ve cleaned yourself too.”

“I had other things to worry about.”

“I’m okay now.”

“You’re breathing.” His thumb pressed a fraction firmer against your pulse. “That’s not the same damn thing.”

“It’s a start.”

His eyes didn't leave yours. “Not even close.”

David leaned down until his forehead rested against yours. “You belong here now,” he muttered. “So until you can stand without hitting the floor, you stay where I put you.”

It should have scared you, hearing him speak like that. Instead, something inside of you settled.

The ocean no longer reached through the walls. Neither did the rest of the cave. There was only David’s thumb over your pulse and the slow rhythm of your breathing.

For the first time since waking, nothing hurt.

Your eyelids began to lower.

“David?”

“I’m here.” His hand slid from your neck and closed over yours.

You meant to ask how long he planned to stay.

Sleep reached you first.

David lasted twenty-three minutes on the boardwalk.

By then, Paul had acquired a stuffed bear nearly as tall as he was, Marko had stolen a silk scarf from a display near the arcade, and Dwayne had told both of them to hurry up at least four times.

David was already halfway down the pier.

“Look at him,” Paul muttered from behind, wrestling the giant bear under one arm as he dodged a group of tourists. “Guy looks like he’s about to kill the next person who breathes sideways.”

Dwayne didn't look up. “Shut up, Paulie.”

Another burst of carnival music rattled from the speakers overhead. David shoved both hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking.

He should never have left the cave.

You’d been asleep when the sun finally went down, your breathing steadier than it had been all day. Dwayne had convinced him you needed quiet. Paul had reminded him about the fries you’d asked for before everything went wrong.

Neither argument felt particularly convincing now.

A grease-stained fry counter came into view near the end of the pier.

David didn’t slow. A guy in front of the stall reached for a steaming paper bag, but David snatched it straight from his hand.

The guy stared at his empty fingers. “Hey—”

David had already vanished into the crowd.

Behind him, Paul adjusted the bear under his arm once more. “You know, most people wait for their food.”

“She asked for them,” David said.

That ended the conversation.

The old elevator groaned as it carried them beneath the boardwalk, metal scraping somewhere above the cage, nearly drowned out by the distant music and Paul complaining that the bear’s head kept catching between the bars.

The moment the gate opened, David stepped through.

“Baby?”

No answer.

His pace quickened.

The cave looked exactly as they'd left it. The blanket still hung over the couch. Broken glass ringed the billiard table, catching faintly beneath the candlelight.

David crossed the cavern and disappeared into the rear passage.

“David?” Dwayne called after him.

He didn't answer.

The small chamber waited at the end of the tunnel. Empty. The blankets had been thrown back, one corner trailing onto the floor.

The paper bag slipped from his hand, a couple fries spilling across the grit.

“Baby?”

His voice struck the stone walls and came back to him.

David reached the mattress in two sharp strides and pressed one hand into the abandoned blankets.

Cold.

Footsteps crowded the low archway behind him.

“What happened?” Paul asked. The usual edge had vanished from his voice.

David turned slowly.

“...She's gone.”

Paul's grip tightened around the giant bear. “What? No—she couldn't be.”

Dwayne looked past David toward the empty mattress. “She didn't go upstairs.”

“You don't know that,” David rasped, his chest heaving with that useless human breath.

“Her scent doesn't lead upstairs.”

David stared at him, but the words didn't seem to reach him. His gaze dropped back to the bed. One hand closed around the velvet, twisting it hard between his fingers.

“David,” Marko started.

“Get out.”

The words came so quietly that none of them moved.

David’s hand tightened around the blanket. “All of you. Get the fuck out.”

Paul set the bear beside the crate before backing away. Marko lingered for another second before following him into the main cavern.

Dwayne remained in the doorway. “She's still down here,” he said.

David didn’t look at him.

Dwayne waited, letting the words sit between them before he finally stepped away.

David sank onto the edge of the mattress and dragged both hands into his hair. He didn’t move for a long time.

His hands stayed knotted in his hair, elbows braced against his knees. Somewhere beyond the archway, footsteps scattered through the cave, splitting apart until he couldn't tell which belonged to Paul and which to Marko, until he could barely make out Dwayne's heavier tread from the others.

The quiet didn’t help.

He made himself breathe, slow and useless, air his body didn't need but couldn't stop pulling in anyway. He stared at the twisted velvet under his hands until the shape of it stopped meaning anything.

You wouldn't have left. Not with the sun barely down, not this soon.

He told himself that until it started to sound true.

David pushed off the mattress before he could think better of it, ducking through the archway and heading straight for the lower tunnels, refusing to let himself consider anywhere else you might have gone.

Water moved beneath the stone somewhere ahead.

“David?”

He froze.

You stood at the mouth of the passage leading toward the underground shoreline, one hand braced against the damp wall. His leather jacket hung from your shoulders, the sleeves falling past your fingers.

For one second, neither of you moved.

Then David crossed the cavern.

His hands caught your arms first, moving quickly over your shoulders and up to your face, turning it toward the candlelight.

“Where were you?”

“I woke up.”

“That doesn’t answer me.”

“You were gone.” Your eyes moved over his face. “I was looking for you.”

His hands stilled against your cheeks.

“I thought you went up.”

“I can barely make it down a tunnel.”

“I know that.”

“Then why would I go up?”

David stared at you. The answer seemed obvious once you’d said it, but that didn’t stop his fingers from trembling against your skin.

You noticed.

“David—”

He pulled you against him, hard enough to knock a small breath from your lungs. His arms locked around your back, holding you flush against his chest while his face disappeared into the curve of your neck.

You felt him breathe in. Then again.

“I’m here,” you murmured.

His grip tightened, his forehead still resting against your shoulder. “You weren’t in the room.”

“I walked down the tunnel.”

“You weren’t in the room.”

A faint smile tugged at your mouth. “Okay.”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt at the waist, drawing him back down the passage toward the sleeping alcove. David followed without resistance, his eyes fixed on your face.

The small chamber was silent.

The bag of fries sat on the wooden crate beside the mattress, grease soaking through the paper. Paul's ridiculously large bear leaned against it, Marko's scarf still knotted around its neck.

David slipped from your hold and crossed to the crate. He glanced down at the bear, then back at you. His shoulders eased. “Paul's an idiot,” he muttered. “Spent twenty minutes fighting a carnival worker for that thing.”

You leaned one hip against the mattress and looked up at him through the dim light.

“You're lucky you brought the fries,” you murmured. “Otherwise you really would be sleeping alone.”

Something low rolled out of his chest, almost a laugh. He closed the little space between you in a single stride, hands settling at your waist and pulling you against him.

“You don't need fries anymore, baby.”

“No?” Your fingers caught in his hair, tugging just enough to bring his face level with yours. “Then show me what I do need.”

David went still. His eyes moved over your face, catching on the confidence that hadn't been there before. “Does that mean what I think it means?” His voice dropped, rough against your skin.

You smiled and stepped backward into the shadows, drawing him after you by the collar.

“Come find out.”

a/n (it's a long one...my bad!) thank you so much for reading!! comments genuinely make my entire day, so please leave one on your way out if you enjoyed this. my inbox is also VERY open for lost boys prompts because i would love an excuse to write more for them. also, apologies to the marko people for giving him less 'screen time' than paul or dwayne. he is actually my favorite of the three...so i truly don't know how that happened. maybe i owe him his own fic as compensation...would anyone be interested in that?

life has been kinda hard lately, but the lost boys has brought me frankly a ridiculous amount of joy, so i wanted to pour some of that joy into a fic of mine. this was completely concepted and written for me purely because it was the exact story i wanted to read. david has my whole heart unfortunately. i also really wanted to let him have a softer side without sanding away everything that makes him david. he genuinely loves his brothers, but he's also manipulativecharismaticsadisticcoercivegaslightingpredatorynarcissisticdeceptivedomineeringruthless (i thought it was funny to put them all together), and i wanted his reaction here to come from real fear and trauma without turning him into a secretly perfect boyfriend. hopefully the balance lands. it is also genuinely tragic how little lost boys fics there are out there, so consider this me trying to become part of the solution <3

P.S. i apologize for my use and abuse of em-dashes and italics, but frankly, you can rip them from my cold dead hands

#santa carla

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#santa carla