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One Little Change
folder
G through L › Lost Boys
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,905
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Lost Boys
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,905
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Lost Boys, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
How Could I?
How could he have done that? How could he have done that to his own brother? Sam and he just weren’t like most siblings he knew. He loved Sam and Sam loved him, they stuck close to each other and looked after each other. So how could he have done that? How could he have done such a thing to Sam?
Most people probably would have been more worried about the ‘how did I do that’ rather then the ‘why did I’ but Michael wasn’t most people. Yes he did want to know what was going on with him. He did want to know why he had even though to attack Sam to start with. Neither were as important to him as why he could let himself attack and kill his Sam though.
He raced over the street the houses, the people, even the cars flying by him in a blur as he kicked his bike into a faster gear then he ever had. Somehow he just knew he would be fine and that was enough for him to not care and just let the engine lose. The streets and houses gave way to the people and wood of the boardwalk, but still he hardly noticed. He just needed to go, he didn’t know where there was just /somewhere/ he needed to be right now.
He didn’t even blink when the people in front of him cleared a path giving him a beyond frightened look. Weather he didn’t notice or didn’t care was another story though. Which ever it was though the blood staining his chin and teeth was more then enough to have gotten him a clear path /without/ the bike. Between them though the path only seemed wider.
Still eventually the boardwalk gave way to dirt and trees and it was then he finally realized where he was. He was home. He didn’t know why the thought sounded so very true, but it did, this was home. He had kill his Sam, his beloved Sam and now he had come home. It was how things should be, at least that was what some part of him told him the rest of him was still questioning. ‘How could I?’
How could he feel so at ease when his brother was dead? How could he even /think/ that this was home? How could being here make him suddenly not care about Sam or what he had done to him?
He pulled his bike to a halt at the cliff without even a thought. The water was dark still night waters, but he could see their slight blue. He swallowed hard and wished he could cry, but there just wasn’t enough of him that cared about his brother or that he was gone. What was he that he could sit here like this and not care one bit about his brother?
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Author’s Note: Ok yes I am still working on my other Lost Boys story, but right now where my computer is in the shop I don’t get much time online. Instead I end up obsessively watching my movie collection and writing when I’m not at work and this was a new one that came to me. Question for you all though, I’m debating between Sam being actually dead, or the David having shown up and saved him… thoughts?
Most people probably would have been more worried about the ‘how did I do that’ rather then the ‘why did I’ but Michael wasn’t most people. Yes he did want to know what was going on with him. He did want to know why he had even though to attack Sam to start with. Neither were as important to him as why he could let himself attack and kill his Sam though.
He raced over the street the houses, the people, even the cars flying by him in a blur as he kicked his bike into a faster gear then he ever had. Somehow he just knew he would be fine and that was enough for him to not care and just let the engine lose. The streets and houses gave way to the people and wood of the boardwalk, but still he hardly noticed. He just needed to go, he didn’t know where there was just /somewhere/ he needed to be right now.
He didn’t even blink when the people in front of him cleared a path giving him a beyond frightened look. Weather he didn’t notice or didn’t care was another story though. Which ever it was though the blood staining his chin and teeth was more then enough to have gotten him a clear path /without/ the bike. Between them though the path only seemed wider.
Still eventually the boardwalk gave way to dirt and trees and it was then he finally realized where he was. He was home. He didn’t know why the thought sounded so very true, but it did, this was home. He had kill his Sam, his beloved Sam and now he had come home. It was how things should be, at least that was what some part of him told him the rest of him was still questioning. ‘How could I?’
How could he feel so at ease when his brother was dead? How could he even /think/ that this was home? How could being here make him suddenly not care about Sam or what he had done to him?
He pulled his bike to a halt at the cliff without even a thought. The water was dark still night waters, but he could see their slight blue. He swallowed hard and wished he could cry, but there just wasn’t enough of him that cared about his brother or that he was gone. What was he that he could sit here like this and not care one bit about his brother?
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Author’s Note: Ok yes I am still working on my other Lost Boys story, but right now where my computer is in the shop I don’t get much time online. Instead I end up obsessively watching my movie collection and writing when I’m not at work and this was a new one that came to me. Question for you all though, I’m debating between Sam being actually dead, or the David having shown up and saved him… thoughts?