The Lost Boys.
@silntfangs ; i have to talk to you. can i come up?
Michael had been on the balcony that night, old, splintered wood creaking beneath his feet as he swept off various bits of debris. His family had long since left back to their temporary home and Michael was left entirely alone. He preferred it that way ever since their plan had backfired horribly. Michael was still a vampire, even more than he previously was. He could feel it, those last bits of humanity he so desperately clung to were fading away. It was only after the dust had settled did they theorize the 'no kill' rule meant no killing at all. Even other vampires were off the list. Some 'no killing your sire' fail safe or some other screwed up piece of vampire lore the 'Vampires Everywhere' book didn't think was necessary to mention. Not that it helped him anymore. Half-vampires could be cured. Full vampires were stuck as they are, ugly teeth and all. Thoughts like that put a bad taste in his mouth. Michael had tried to keep himself busy, fixing up broken walls and scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen still his hands were raw, in order to prevent himself from focusing too hard on that idea. Unfortunately sweeping didn't exactly require any higher brain function or much effort, so it gave his mind all the time in the world to wander. He thought about being a vampire, of course. What it meant now. He didn't feel like an animal. Didn't feel like a monster. Not at the moment, of course. Michael knew what hunger felt like. He knew what sort of shit he could do if he didn't keep himself in check. He knew what pain he'd be fearing for every day of his life- unlife? His death? " I have to talk to you. Can I come up ? "
The voice startled Michael, enough to pull him right from his thoughts and nearly drop the broom he was holding. He tensed, his grip around the wooden handle tightening - he didn't need to look over the railing to know who was calling up to him. Michael's jaws clenched, teeth locked together. He almost felt like a dog, bristling at an intruder. That voice shouldn't be here. Not after what happened to his house. Not after what happened to his family. To him. His hands shifted on the broom. It wasn't a stake. But he could fix that.
" No, " Michael's voice was tense, uncertain. Whatever Dwayne had to say to him, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Michael finally peered down over the railing, his eyes narrowing at the figure below.
" You shouldn't be here, Dwayne, " There was a touch of malice in the way he said his name. Heated and angry.
















