Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Michael lay on the couch, legs slung haphazardly over one arm of it, and watched the slow rotations of the ceiling fan blades. Bored couldn’t begin to describe the state he was in. He'd played his guitar until his fingertips ached, despite his callouses. And with no tv—no MTV—he’d been reduced to reading his brother’s comic books. It was an alternative that neither of them liked, and Sam didn’t hesitate to let Michael know it. But, after a week in Santa Carla with nowhere to go and nothing to do, even that meager distraction was falling flat. So, here he was: laying—no, vegging—on the couch. Riveting.

 “Alright.” Michael turned towards the doorway, where his mother stood with her hands on her hips. She held them up in a sign of surrender. “Fine. If you’re this miserable, just go to the boardwalk.” The irritation in her tone couldn’t diminish the frantic energy that surged through him at the mention of something to do. Something to do! Finally! He sat up and opened his mouth to reply when she cut him off. “But you have to take Sam with you. And you can’t be out too late.” The words were little more than droning in his ears. Michael got up off the couch and yelled up the stairs.

“Sam! Boardwalk!”

He turned back towards his mother just as Sam hurtled down the stairs. “Did you say boardwalk? She caved?” He turned the corner then and saw their mother. “I mean…” He trailed off, eyes wide as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

She shook her head, but Michael caught the brief smile that skittered across her lips. It was nice—seeing her smile. It had been a while.

“Stay together and be careful. No reckless behavior—from either of you.” She eyed Michael and Sam in turn. “Home by ten. Oh, and Michael? You’re cooking Monday night.” Michael just nodded. Santa Carla was no Phoenix, but damn if the boardwalk didn’t seem fun as hell. They’d seen it briefly on their first day, and mom had explored it a little without them. She’d even managed to get a job at some video store. The owner, Maxine, seemed to be a nice enough woman from what he’d heard of her. Michael, though, didn’t much care past that. So long as Maxine was nice to his mom, he was good.

He waved to his mom on the way out the door and hurried to his bike. Sam hurried after him, tugging shoes on as he half-ran-half-jumped to the bike. Michael got onto the bike, handing Sam a helmet as the kid got on behind him.

“Can we go to the comic shop? I saw one on the boardwalk that first day and you pretty much owe me one with how many of mine you’ve read this week, and-”

Michael fired up the bike and revved it before throwing the bike into gear. He’d buy the kid a comic because he loved him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit and listen to him beg the whole ride.

Michael drove a little slower than usual, partly because Sam was on the back of his bike and partly because he didn’t know the area as well. He’d read a few maps on his way in, so he knew roughly where the boardwalk was, but getting there? It took a bit more attention than travelling in Phoenix. Phoenix was laid out on a grad—a grid he knew like the back of his hand. He’d grown up there. Had been riding his motorcycle around the city for the better part of four years, and a bicycle before that. It was his home in a way he doubted this fucking place ever would be. 

It only took Michael two wrong turns to find the place (which Sam would no doubt give him shit for, if he’d noticed), but it wasn’t long before he’d parked near a few other bikes and headed into the boardwalk.

As they arrived and looked at the spectacle that was the boardwalk, even Michael had to admit that he was impressed.

There were all sorts of rides and games, vendors selling everything from shirts and jackets to board games, and more candy than anyone could eat. There were children shrieking their delight, teenagers laughing and yelling, and adults doing their best to wrangle kids that were bound and determined to be free. The smell of funnel cakes permeated the air, amongst other sweet, fried treats. And, under all the other noise, there was music . Live music caught Michael's attention and drew his eye towards the source. He couldn't see the stage, but his fingers twitched as he heard the deep, resonant notes of a bass guitar accompanied by the melodic whine of an electric. He could almost pick out the notes, but the onslaught of other sounds kept them just out of reach.

The boardwalk was paradise for someone Sam's age. Michael, too, suspected he would thoroughly enjoy himself. It was hard not to, in a place like this.

Sam hurried him along, rushing toward the comic book store he’d memorized the location of. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Sam darted through a small crowd and into the shop. Michael rolled his eyes and followed the kid inside. The shop wasn’t as nice as the one in Phoenix, but it was decent. There were rows and rows of comics, with only a few people scattered throughout the shop looking it over.  Sam scoured the aisles, likely searching for one of his Batman comics, when two kids around his age approached him. The pair looked at Sam, and then at Michael, before their eyes drifted back to Sam. They must work at the shop—Michael could see the sales pitch in their eyes as they closed in on Sam. Michael smiled faintly and took that as his cue to step aside and let the two boys recruit Sam as a friend. Michael stepped towards the door, looking out at the dark water in the distance. The sun was just below the horizon, meaning that it was probably around nine. They'd gotten a late start. He wanted to go check out the music, but mom would be pissed if he was late bringing Sam home.

He looked around the boardwalk and a pair of striking blue eyes found his through the crowd. A man around his age (perhaps a year or two older) leaned against the wall of an ice-cream shop. He wore his hair in a mullet with the front spiked up as though he’d run gel-covered fingers through it. He brought a cigarette to his lips as his eyes trailed down Michael, assessing. Evaluating. Eventually those eyes found his again and the man smirked, cocking a brow. It was an invitation. To what, Michael wasn't sure. 

“And where are you from? Krypton?” One of the boys’ voices carried to the door, and Michael’s attention was pulled back to his brother. Sam must’ve been explaining why they couldn’t put certain comics together, based on the surprised expression on their faces. Michael smiled—Sam had that effect on his fellow nerds. Sam looked over at him as if to say, “can you believe these guys?” Michael walked back towards him and clapped Sam on the shoulder.

“Glad you’re making friends. I’m going to step outside for a sec to see if there’s anything more my speed. Hang out here for a bit.” Michael said smoothly. Sam turned to him, about to protest, but Michael shot him a look. After all, it was him that got Sam out of their grandpa’s weird-ass house for the night.

He stepped back towards the door and looked back at the man with the blond hair, and found him still smoking casually and eyeing Michael. There was a kind of severity in those eyes. Just then, though, the man seemed to make up his mind and stepped away from the wall, pressing into the crowd and vanishing among the sea of bodies. Alone with his thoughts, Michael walked out of the comic shop.

The boardwalk had a busy, almost frantic air. Families, teens, and solo adults wandered through the maze-like crowd, searching for entertainment. There were endless sights, smells, and sounds to take in, each changing by the minute. How could anyone get bored here? He walked past a woman selling leather jackets and briefly glanced at himself in the mirror. He could probably stand to get a new one. He paused, looking at the black coat for a long moment before he decided against it. After all, there were so many other points of fascination to waste money on here. His eyes wandered further down the row of shops and he let out a quick breath of surprise. There, just down the row, was a music store.

He cut through the crowd, moving with the flow of bodies to get to the shop and as he pushed the door open he couldn't help the smile that curved his lips. There was a whole wall of guitars. He stepped into the store and slowly walked through it, taking in the scene. It was a decent sized shop, really, and they seemed to carry all sorts of things. He perused their collection of albums, but before he knew it he was standing and staring up at the wall of guitars.

“See any that catch your eye?”

The words snapped him from his reverie. He looked over at the speaker: a girl that looked to be about his age, with thick, curly brown hair, olive skin, and big brown eyes. She tilted her head, a warm smile on her lips, but her eyes drifted over to the guitars.

“Oh, I'm just looking.”

“Do you play?”

He smiled a little at that. “Yeah, I do.”

It was her turn to smile, then, and her eyes flitted back over to his. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a name tag that said Star.

“Let me know if you need anything.” She said, her voice light and friendly. She turned on her heel, heading towards the door as another customer came in. Michael's gaze returned to the guitars, and to one beautiful cherry red Gibson. Before he got sucked into looking at them, though, he reminded himself that Sam was alone in the comic shop. Plus, it was probably about time to head out. He turned toward the door and as he passed Star, she glanced over at him and smiled politely before continuing her conversation with people who'd walked in earlier.

Michael strolled through the throng of people, skirting the edges for a bit until he decided he’d need to be more direct to get anywhere with this many people. He turned a corner towards the comic shop and straight into someone.

“Sorry,” he said automatically. He righted himself and looked up into blue eyes. There he stood—the man from before, dressed in all black. A long black coat, a black shirt, black pants, and black boots. They contrasted his peroxide-blond hair and fair skin. With the stubble along his jaw, the man looked as though he’d stepped fresh and whole from some new rock band. He smiled, head tilting slightly and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“All good,” he said, eyes lingering on Michael a moment too long before he disappeared into the crowd. Michael let his thoughts of the guy slip from his mind as he walked towards the shop, and his brother within it. He rounded a corner and the shop came into view; looking in he quickly made out the top of Sam’s head poking above the rows of comics. He walked into the shop and between the rows until he reached his brother.

“And that’s why you need this book, man,” the younger of the two boys talking to him was saying, holding out a comic.

“How can I make this clearer? I don’t like horror comics.”

The older one, and Michael suspected they were brothers, shrugged. “It’s your funeral.” They looked up at Michael and let the conversation die as he approached. Michael looked at the comic in question. It was just what they'd said: a horror comic—some vampire story that Sam would no doubt hate if he bothered to read it. He smiled.

“I’ll buy it for you, Sam.” Sam looked at him, betrayed. If Michael spent his hard-earned money (really, it was harder finding living lawns in Phoenix than it was mowing them) on comics for him, Sam pretty much had to read them. Michael only smiled. “It looks interesting.”

The little group walked over to the register where the brothers, after money changed hands, handed him the comic. Michael smiled as he then handed it to Sam, even as his little brother glared daggers at him.

“Come on, Sam. Let’s get some cotton candy and get out of here. It’s getting late.” Sam grumbled a reply but didn’t complain too much. He did, after all, still get a free comic out of the deal. A comic that he would no doubt trade later on down the line. It was a win for both of them, really.

It didn’t take too long for them to find a stand that sold cotton candy. They each got a cone topped with an enormous cloud of the stuff, and Michael wondered as he ate it whether it would turn his tongue red. He looked at Sam, whose whole mouth was red, and laughed. Yeah, that answered his question. Sam looked at him, confused, and Michael shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Sam did as he was told, shrugging and enjoying his cotton candy. They made their way back to Michael’s bike fairly quickly, finding it easily. The bikes that had been parked near it were gone, leaving Michael's there alone. Sam finished his cotton candy, tossing the empty cone into a trash can before tucking the comic under his shirt. Michael wondered, for a moment, why they’d been so hell-bent on selling him that one. Its sky-blue cover was emblazoned with the figure of a stalking vampire. “Vampires Everywhere,” it was called. Michael tried to think back to their conversation but couldn’t remember what the kids had said about the comic, other than that Sam needed it. He shrugged, mounting his bike. He started it up as Sam climbed on behind him. Now, he just had to remember how to get home. 

Chapter Text

It was a little cooler tonight than it had been last week when they visited, Michael mused as he meandered along the boardwalk. Sam was shut in with the comic he said he wouldn’t like and had refused to go with him. He’d even turned down ice cream. Ice cream! The kid wasn’t right. So, Michael wandered by himself tonight, taking in the sights at his own pace.

Once again, he passed the woman selling leather jackets and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but think back to the man he’d bumped into last week. The man dressed in all black. Michael had to admit, he’d cut one hell of a figure. How would Michael look dressed like that?

“I think this one would suit you.” A woman’s voice shattered his train of thought, pulling him back to reality. Right, he’d been standing and looking at himself in a mirror. Sam would have teased him about it.

“Conceited much, bud?” he’d have said. Michael smiled faintly, turning to face the speaker. A woman, the saleswoman, stood next to the rack of jackets, holding one out towards him. He took the jacket from her, inspecting it. It was a motorcycle jacket, really, made of thick leather that was surprisingly supple. It had a higher collar to protect the neck and sleeves that buttoned at the cuff. It was much nicer than the one he owned, that much was certain.

“Try it on,” she urged. Michael ran his fingers along the inside of the coat. The liner was soft. It was, he had to admit, a well-made jacket. He slid his arms into the sleeves and pulled it on before adjusting the cuffs and collar. He looked at himself in the mirror and yeah, she was right; it was pretty rad.

He was hardly paying attention to the woman as he negotiated the price and paid her, instead more focused on the jacket. Would the man from yesterday wear something like this? He’d looked like trouble, but most of Michael’s friends back in Phoenix were trouble too. Well, not his best friend, but that guy was a different story. With one final glance in the mirror he walked away from the woman, headed for the stage.

He wove through the crowd, eyes on everyone around him. And damn, there were a lot of people around him worth looking at. As he approached, however, he caught sight of a woman. A girl, really. She couldn’t have been a day over eighteen. Not that Michael was much older. Her hair was an unruly mess of dark curls and as she turned Michael realized: it was the girl from the music store. She, too, was headed for the stage. Would he see her there?

Did he want to?

Michael had… a complicated history with women. It boiled down to the fact that he was terrible with them, always saying and doing the exact wrong thing. His last girlfriend, Sadie, had even accused him of sabotaging their relationship. She’d told him that he “couldn’t get a damn thing right if he tried, and trying was the last thing he was doing.” He blinked, refocusing on the present and found that the girl was gone. He felt something akin to relief. 

He walked with a little more purpose towards the stage, eagerness building within him as he began to hear music. That’s the one thing about Phoenix—there was nothing at all like this . The music scene there was good, great even. But you had to pay for absolutely everything. You couldn’t just walk up and find live music. Though, Phoenix definitely had better radio stations.

As he settled into the crowd, closing in on the stage, Michael felt a prickling on his neck. It was like eyes were on him, and as he turned his gaze locked onto the guy he’d bumped into a week before. The guy with bright blue eyes that were currently fixed on his own. The man tilted his head. A faint smile curled his lips as he eyed Michael like meat. A chill shot down Michael’s spine. He couldn’t be but a year or two older than Michael, realistically. But something about him promised danger and experience that Michael just didn’t have.

Someone passed between them then and by the time they moved by, the blue-eyed man was gone. Michael turned back to the stage and, for the second time at this boardwalk, nearly collided with someone. The girl he’d seen before was making her way past him, eyes on the stage as the electric shriek of a guitar surrounded them.

“Hey!” Michael called to her. She looked around for a moment as though struggling to identify where the sound came from amidst the clamor before her eyes met his. She smiled, nose crinkling and dimples forming in her cheeks. She was beautiful. Breathtaking, if he was honest.

“Hi,” she called over the music. The song the band was playing was coming to a close and he could almost hear her. She was wearing a low-cut white tank-top with lacing up the front and some kind of long, colorful, flowing skirt. Michael realized then that he was supposed to say something and mentally swore. This was why he didn’t talk to women.

“Do you know this band?” He finally said lamely. She laughed a little as the song died down.

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s the drummer.”

Michael nodded. “That’s cool.” He was off the hook, then. “What kind of music do they play?”

It was her turn to nod. “Rock, mostly. They do a lot of Billy Idol covers but they’re looking to start performing more of their own music.”

Michael looked at the band a little closer. The front man looked nothing like Billy Idol, but why would he? He was a fairly tall man in a tank top and a royal blue leather jacket with white skinny jeans and black boots. His long black hair was shaggy and Michael knew the unkempt look he wore was carefully constructed.

“You lost?” She asked. He looked back at her and found her looking at him sincerely. 

Michael shrugged. “Just new here.”

She smiled again, that bright-eyed look in her eyes.

“I knew that from the second you walked into the shop. My name’s Star. Welcome to Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said dryly. “My name’s Michael.”

The band launched into another song, cutting off whatever response she’d just opened her mouth to give. She closed it with a smile and then turned her back on him, facing the stage. She cast a look back, almost an afterthought, and waved before vanishing into the crowd. 

“Michael, is it?”

Michael turned at the sound of his name. He came face to face with the man from before—the blond dressed in all black. He stood amidst the crowd but did not blend into it. Instead he stood apart, eyes scouring Michael. Those eyes… Inscrutable was the only word he could think of to describe them. His English teacher would have been proud.

“Yeah,” Michael said. He could hardly hear himself over the music, but the man leaned close. He smelled like leather, whiskey, and Marlboros.

“Why don’t you come with me, Michael.” He didn’t speak loudly. No, his voice was smooth and quiet and full of command. Michael wanted to say no; after all, there was live music here. Something about the man gave him pause, though, and so he found himself nodding. The man turned, heading back through the crowd as music started up.

“ Time on my side, are you ready to learn? Said baby, are you ready to burn?” The lyrics surrounded him as he followed the blond, for whom the crowd seemed to part automatically. There was something about the man. Something that kept Michael on edge.

They reached the outer fringe of the crowd and the man turned to look at him.

“ Oh, burning desire, I’m a soul on fire.”

“You’re new here.” It wasn’t a question. The man tilted his head, eyeing Michael like an object of curiosity.

“Was that all you wanted to say?”

The man smirked. “Come with me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

The man paused. “My name’s David.”

“Why the hell would I follow you anywhere?”

The careless smirk returned. “You’ve already followed me this far.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. David only smiled—a look akin to the cat that ate the canary. “Get on that bike of yours and follow me to Hudson’s Bluff. You want a good time? You’re not going to find it here.”

“A good time, huh? And how do you know what I’m looking for?”

David’s eyes slid down his body like dripping candle wax. His expression turned serious as his eyes met Michael’s once more. There was an intensity in those eyes. A pressing severity that Michael couldn’t turn away from.

“Have a little faith.”

And God help him, but he did. He wanted to trust this man for some terrible reason. Michael nodded, the motion slow and contemplative.

“Alright. I’ll follow you.”

“Meet me at the western entrance to the boardwalk with your bike.”

“How do you know I have a bike?”

David snorted. “Guy like you? How the hell else would you get here?”

Michael didn’t bother puzzling out what he meant by that. He had no interest in deciphering what was likely an insult.  

“Meet me at the bottom of the stairwell, on the beach.” David turned, but then paused and looked back. “I leave in ten minutes.” He started walking, leaving Michael no room for questions or directions. It was sink or swim, or he could abandon ship all together. But something about the man made Michael curious. Something made him want to understand what made someone like David tick.

Michael wandered through the crowd after that, in the vague direction of the west entrance where, luckily, he'd parked his bike. He passed by his mom's video store and peered in. She was talking to another employee, arms crossed and smiling faintly. He hoped she was making friends.

She hadn't had friends in awhile. 

With his dad, she'd been restricted to the house and the grocery store for the last couple years. He'd become controlling, and Michael wasn't really sure why. He'd seemed to just sort of clam up and detach from the people in his life. He stopped going camping with Sam and Michael, he stayed out at work late, and he even stopped eating with them for dinner, taking his meal in his office. No, something was horribly wrong but neither of his parents would say what it was. He was glad, then, to see his mom enjoying herself at the video store.

Michael resumed his walk, this time with a little more purpose. It wasn’t long before he reached the western entrance and his bike. He threw a leg over and started it up before slowly riding towards the stairs and the sand. He looked around slowly, panning the crowd in search of peroxide blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Michael,” called a familiar voice. The tone was low. Inviting. Much too personal. Michael gravitated towards the noise, slowing his bike to a stop and pressing his feet to the ground. There he was, but this time he wasn’t alone.

David was flanked by a tall, dark-haired guy in a black leather jacket and a slightly shorter blond who looked like a lost member of Twisted Sister. He had long, messy blond hair and white jeans with, once again, a black jacket. The only one without a black jacket was a bright-eyed blond with curly hair in a mullet and a bright, patched jacket of all colors and designs. He wore a crop top and heavy black boots, and sat atop his bike with a smile on his lips.

“Yeah?” Michael said finally, having taken in the strange group of them. They were all so pale with dangerous eyes. There was a hunger in them that set Michael on edge. The blue-eyed man stepped forward.

“You know where Hudson’s Bluff is? Overlooking the point?”

The other boys were already atop bikes and as he spoke David climbed atop his own. Was he looking for a race? David sat astride a newer bike—newer than Michael’s own—and Michael knew he didn’t have a chance in hell at beating it. He rolled his eyes; this guy was having him on.

“Yeah, so what?” he asked slowly.

“Think you can keep up?”

Michael eyed David's bike. He could probably keep up, depending on how these guys rode. The little blond with the curly mullet laughed and looked at the others. The brunette, too, was smiling looking at Michael. None of them seemed to be taking him seriously, except David. David, who looked at him with curiosity. The man smiled, slow and contemplative, sending a shiver down Michael’s spine.

Michael gripped the handlebars, fingers on the throttle but not pressing down. Not yet. “I can keep up.” A kind of nervous, excited energy filled him. He held David's gaze, unflinching. David's smile dropped away and he started his bike.

“Come on then,” he called over the growl of his bike. David didn’t wait for a reply. He revved his bike before setting off into the night, his friends following and laughing in his wake.

As they accelerated into the dark Michael paused. He had no one to take care of tonight. Sam was at home with Grandpa and his mom was working. He smiled, the weight of his responsibilities burning away in the face of his desires. As the bikes were pulling away from him he shot off into the night after them. 

They cut across the beach, tires spinning and spitting sand as laughter echoed behind them. It wasn’t particularly late, but there weren’t many lights illuminating the empty stretch of sand and the few people there seemed to flock to light like moths.  A few bonfires burned and the boys cut around them, weaving unnervingly close to people before darting back out into the dark. They drove recklessly, dangerously, and for the second time Michael second-guessed himself. They soon passed into a darker stretch of beach, where the lights from the boardwalk were distant and people were nonexistent. Dark and cold surrounded Michael, and he struggled to remember exactly where Hudson’s Bluff was.

There was a lighthouse near it, he thought. It should be easy to see, but ‘should be’ and ‘were’ were two different animals. He’d looked at maps while they’d been driving into the city, but that was different than driving it. The wind was picking up, dragging a thick fog inland, and he quickly realized that he’d have no shot at navigating in this light. He’d have to trust the guys. And he sure as hell didn’t.

They were reckless. They were riding over rocky, uneven terrain in heavy fog, but were still racing as fast as ever. But they were meandering, and Michael was riding straight. He started pulling up on David, closing the distance between them. Closer and closer he pushed, until he was neck and neck with the man. David looked over at him, hair whipping behind him in the wind.

Up ahead a cliff loomed. Michael began to let off the throttle. David didn’t—he kept his pace. Michael found himself accelerating back up to match him.

The cliff loomed, closer, closer, closer. Michael waited, waited, waited.

David didn't brake.

Closer and closer they rocketed toward certain death. Closer and closer it came until it was there. Michael threw himself to the ground, taking his bike with him. He slid towards the cliff, his bike close to being out over it, before he stopped. He turned on the man—David—with teeth grit in rage.

“What the fuck were you thinking!”

He ran up to David and punched him square in the side of his face. Michael staggered from the force of the punch as the other boys gathered around him, looking between the two. “You could have killed me!”

David smiled, getting off his bike. He didn't even look phased by the blow, and Michael knew he'd hit the man hard. His aching fist promised that.

“And yet, you’re alive.”

Michael sucked in a quick breath, fists clenching. “You’re insane.”

David blinked, the slow blink of a predator, and tilted his head slightly. “And you’re here.” He gestured to a hole in the ground. Michael couldn’t see much through the dark and the fog, but he could see a sort of path leading downward. He scoffed.

“You’re even crazier than I thought if you think I’m willing to go anywhere with you.”

David shook his head. He looked back up, meeting Michael’s gaze with a stare like ice. “Come with me, Michael. You'll get everything you want and then some.” It was a promise. Something in the man’s tone was unnerving and Michael knew, instinctively, that this was the worst decision he could make. But something nagged at him. A desperate curiosity that wormed its way through his brain. Whatever lay in that hole, David wanted him to see it. To know.

Michael knew it was one of his dumber moments. Knew that he had no business following this asshole anywhere. And yet… his eyes met those blazing blue ones and he gave a small nod. He would follow.

Chapter Text

The boys all jumped, scrabbling down into the hole and whatever lay below. David waited, standing at the edge with his gaze locked on Michael. There was a draft coming up—this couldn’t be the only opening that led into… wherever here was.

“Come on, Michael,” he said. David leapt down into the hole and Michael had no choice then but to admit that he wanted to follow. Slowly, carefully, he picked his way down after them.

The rocks were easy enough to climb down. There were all sorts of places where the cliff face was broken and rocks jutted out at odd angles. Better yet, he could see the floor below him. He was only about eight feet off the ground. A few more feet down and he could jump. It was dark enough, however, that as he looked around, he couldn’t see much. Moonlight streamed into the hole, illuminating the smooth, pale floor but little else. What the hell was this place? The wall leveled out then into a kind of ramp leading down the remaining five feet and as Michael stepped onto it, the room lit up.

The blond guy in the white pants tossed a flaming torch into a barrel, igniting something within and casting light across the room. Flames leapt in the barrel and lights danced around a dilapidated hotel.

“Welcome,” David said. “This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla eighty five years ago.”

“What the hell happened to it?” Michael asked, stepping out onto the uneven ground. There were curtains hanging haphazardly from the ceiling and enormous posters of current and forgotten musicians in various states of distress propped against the walls. Cans and bottles lay about, and the whole thing was a strange combination of mess and comfort. David stepped up beside him, eyes dark with something unplaceable. He extended a gloved hand towards Michael, a joint between his fingers.

“Would you like something to make the story more interesting?”

Who the hell was this guy? He’d punched the man—David—in the face and in response, the guy invited him to some crazy hotel and offered him weed? Michael accepted the offered joint, nonetheless. He was in too deep at this point not to. Besides, he hadn’t had weed since they’d moved away from Arizona.

Michael took the joint from David and David pulled out a lighter. Michael held out his hand, but David flicked the lighter open and produced a small flame, obviously offering to light it for him. Michael brought the joint to his lips and David stepped closer, holding the lighter up to the end of the joint. They locked eyes and there was that look again. A kind of hunger, but for some reason he was fairly certain it wasn’t for food. Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the hell it was for.

Michael took a long drag, reveling in the slight burn that snaked its way down his throat and into his lungs. It grounded him, and as he held the smoke in David pulled out another joint and lit it for himself. Speaking around the joint, he introduced the other guys: “That’s Dwayne, Paul, and Marko.” He gestured to each in turn, the dark and broody one, the one from Twisted Sister, and the one in the crop top, before refocusing on Michael.

“Now, about the hotel.”

Michael was curious, though there was so much going on that he was struggling to keep up. He exhaled as the weed began to burn in his lungs, the plume of smoke racing towards the destroyed ceiling. The left side of David’s mouth curved into a smirk as he exhaled through his nose, eyes locked on Michael’s. “As I said, it was the hottest resort in Santa Carla. But, they’d built this place right on a fault. When the big one hit in 1908, this place vanished right into the crack.” David clapped his hands together during the last bit of his explanation, emphasizing the drop the hotel made. “And now it’s ours.”

“And ours alone,” Dwayne added. He had a kind of sullen silence Michael was sure was popular with chicks. The little one in the crop top, Marko, grinned at that. “All ours. Food, Mikey?” He asked, but he was already on his way towards some kind of alternate exit. David nodded at the blond before Michael had a chance to answer. He vanished down a hallway and the sound of his boots faded into the crackling of the flame. It wasn’t long before Michael heard a bike rev up on the surface, the sound coming in through the hole in the ceiling.

“You live here?” It was no doubt rude, the way Michael said it. He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. Where the hell did they sleep? Shower? Cook? Did they cook? He supposed parents were out of the question.

“It’s nicer than you think. Parts of the hotel are mostly intact.”

“Yeah, Mikey. It’s not the shithole it looks like,” Paul said, sparking up a cigarette. Michael shrugged, the weed weaving its way through his system and rapidly diminishing his concern about those sorts of things. After all, it wasn’t his problem.

David eyed him. “You’re not from around here.”

Michael laughed a little at that. “What gave it away?”

David’s eyes shuttered, the slow blink of a curious predator as it puzzled apart its next meal. Was the weed making him paranoid? He took another drag for good measure, hoping a little more might mellow him out. This seemed like good weed, no way would it wig him out. David followed suit, smiling lazily. Once again, he exhaled slowly through his nose, the smoke curling and dancing towards the ceiling as it escaped his lungs. His eyes, through the haze of smoke, looked almost yellow. Michael blinked and, once again, they were that staggering shade of oceanic blue. They had swirls of different colors buried in them, varying shades of blue that struck him as he was drawn into their variance. A warm sky blue, a cool ocean blue, and flecks of a vivid azure that glimmered in the low light.

Michael looked away, flushed. He’d like those eyes more on a girl, no doubt.

“You’re nervous, Michael.” David’s voice was low, a smooth, dulcet tone that reminded him of velvet. “Don’t be. I won’t bite.” David smiled again, slow and lazy. “Not unless you ask me to.”

A shiver shot straight down his spine.

“What really gives you away is your cluelessness.” David carried on,  smile still cutting a line along his cheek. “You wandered around the boardwalk like a tourist.”

“You were watching me?”

“You ran right into me.”

Fair point. He supposed he’d been so busy looking around he hadn’t even noticed the blond. How the hell had he not noticed a man like David? David took another drag, eyes falling shut as he sucked in a lungful of smoke. Michael followed suit, the weed having mellowed him out substantially. He’d been paranoid. These guys… he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them, but they were interesting. They were people he’d chase just as staunchly as he’d chase Sam away from them. David was trouble, but he was Michael’s kind of trouble. At least, he hoped.

The roar of a bike announced the return of Marko, who descended just a few minutes later with a box full of food. Michael took another drag of his joint before snuffing it out and tucking it away. Marko handed out containers Michael quickly identified as being Chinese food. Paul and Dwayne cheered as Marko handed them containers, and then he handed one to David before stepping over to Michael. The short blond smiled, tilting his head thoughtfully before reaching into the box and pulling out an unmarked container.

“You seem like a rice guy.”

Michael accepted the container, finding himself a little confused by Marko’s comment. What was the blond saying about him? The hell did that mean ? He tried not to think about it as he sat down on a somewhat less destroyed hunk of stone that had once been a pillar. Marko pulled a wheelchair over and David sank into it, opening his box of Chinese food. Marko handed him a pair of chopsticks, but handed Michael a fork. He frowned at that. He couldn’t use chopsticks, and it was best that he not make a fool of himself, but was it that obvious that he couldn’t? What about him said: ‘I can’t use chopsticks?’

He opened the container and dug his plastic fork into the rice, taking a bite. It was plain rice, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were fucking with him. Who ate plain rice? Just, by itself? David interrupted his high musings, voice cutting into his thoughts.

“How do you like those maggots?”

Michael looked at the man, confused. Had he misheard? Paul started laughing as David leaned forward. “You’re eating maggots, Michael,” he said slowly. “How do they taste?” Michael looked down at his rice only to see the container full of squirming maggots. He gagged, dropping the container and spitting out the bite he’d taken. He nearly retched but managed to keep it down. As he looked down at the maggots, though, he realized they weren’t maggots. It was just rice scattered about on the floor. He wiped at his mouth and stared, dumbfounded, at the rice as Paul and Marko laughed at him.

“Sorry about that,” David said, fidgeting with his chopsticks. “No hard feelings.” In that moment the blond almost looked guilty, sitting there as his eyes drifted between his own food and Michael. 

“Sorry? What the fuck was that?” Michael couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. Was this revenge for punching him? Had they laced the weed with something? What the hell was going on?

David tilted his head, eyeing Michael appraisingly. He seemed to come to some sort of decision, and made a gesture with his hand to Marko who’d just sat down to dig into his food. The little blond rolled his eyes, but got back up and handed Michael a new container and another fork. Had that been some kind of test? Had he passed? What the hell had just happened?

He accepted the container and opened it, being greeted this time with vegetable lo mein. He eyed the food carefully, unsure of what he was looking for. The rice, too, had looked like regular rice. Until it didn’t. He took a cautious bite of the lo mein and found that it tasted like regular noodles and vegetables. It wasn’t anything weird, this time. Just as Michael was about to ask more questions—was about to really pry about why the hell David invited him here, the devilish blond cut him off. 

“Where are you from, Michael?” there was an intensity in David’s tone. A kind of probing severity. Michael swallowed his bite.

“Phoenix. Arizona.”

David nodded, as though the answer told him everything he needed to know.

“Why’d you come here?”

Michael turned to face the speaker—Paul—as he remembered quite suddenly that there were more people than just him and David that he should probably be talking to. Marko sat beside Paul, eating noodles and fixing Michael with a piercing look. Dwayne wasn’t even looking at him, instead smoking a cigarette and sitting off to the right of the two blonds. Paul’s cigarette was between the pointer and middle fingers of his left hand, which was also holding the container of noodles. His other hand was holding the chopsticks responsible for shoveling food into his mouth, which he was doing almost ceaselessly.

“Mom got a divorce.”

Paul sucked in a breath, grimacing around a mouthful of food. “Yikes.” Marko nodded beside him. Michael ate a few bites of lo mein, hoping that anyone would say something to break the tension. It was weird. He didn’t know these people, they were interrogating him, and he was actually answering their questions. How the hell had he gotten himself here? Better question: why the hell wasn't he leaving?

“I guess you guys don’t have parents.” It wasn’t really a question. No one with parents lived somewhere like this. He just wasn’t quite sure what to say, all things given. David laughed and looked at the guys in succession. They shared that look, something going between them. As though Michael wasn’t in on a joke.

“You could say that,” Paul said. He laughed too, the sound genuine. Michael waited for him to continue, for anyone to explain, but no one did. Paul shoved his chopsticks into his food and took a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling in a rush of laughter.

“Food’s great and all, but David promised you a good time, right?”

Marko smacked Paul lightly, teasingly, and leapt to his feet. “That’s why I brought these!”

Marko hurried back up to the surface before returning moments later through the hole in the ceiling carrying bottles—way too many bottles—of god only knew what. Michael couldn’t help but stare, a mix of shock and awe written on his face. The drinking age had just been raised to twenty one. Marko was either older than he looked or had snagged it illegally. Either way, it was one hell of a score. Michael shook his head and grabbed his joint, setting his half-eaten food down. David caught the motion and leaned over, suddenly staggeringly close as he flicked open his lighter. His tongue darted out across his lower lip as he ignited the lighter and held it up for Michael to re-light his joint. Michael had no choice but to press the joint between his lips and lean in, bringing him even closer to David.

This close, his eyes were even more breath-taking. They were the striking blue of the ocean under the radiance of the sun, with gold around his pupils that danced in the firelight. Michael sucked in a breath, only half-conscious of doing so, and choked on the smoke from his joint. He sat up straight, leaning away from the man and coughing while David tilted his head, that damnable smile curving his lips once more.

It took Michael a minute to regain his composure, trying to keep his cool while Marko and Paul devolved into laughter as they cracked bottles open. Dwayne’s laughter, too, carried across the room despite the low tone. They seemed oblivious to Michael’s choking, but it was no doubt politeness rather than actually being oblivious. Michael was pretty sure his coughing had been loud as hell, but then again he was also high as hell. 

As his breathing slowly returned to something resembling normalcy Marko sauntered over with a bottle in each hand. “Whiskey or tequila?” he said, holding out the bottles. He paused then, pulling them away. He seemed to weigh them for a moment in his hands before smiling at Michael and holding out the tequila.

“This is popular in Arizona, right?”

Michael couldn’t help but grin. He stood, taking another drag and accepting the bottle. The joint was burning close to the filter, but the bottle was a full fifth; even more surprising was the brand. It wasn’t absolute shit, which caught him off guard. It wasn’t top shelf, but damn if it wasn’t at least decent. He'd had it a few times before, when Sadie snuck it out of her parents’ house. He took one final drag of the joint before taking a measure of himself. He didn’t normally drink like this (a whole bottle for him?) but damn if drinking with these guys didn't sound like a good time. Except…

At some point he had to go home. If he didn’t show, his mom would lose her mind, and he couldn’t do that to her. The thought sobered him, the smile dying on his lips. Except, there all at once was David. With eyes a mix of flame and sea he stepped into Michael’s space. What the hell was with this guy and personal space?

“Don’t worry about the rest of the world, Michael. You’re here with us right now. Be here with us.”

“Here with us, here with us, here with us!” The guys began cheering, each holding up a bottle. David held up his own bottle (the whiskey Marko had initially offered Michael) and extended it towards him. “Come on, Michael.”

Fuck it.

Michael dropped the burned out joint, snuffed it with his boot, and cracked the bottle before taking a long swig.

The cheering died as the guys followed suit. Before Michael could even swallow music poured through the room. A glance around revealed Dwayne, the quiet one, next to a boombox of surprisingly stellar quality. Yeah, this he could get used to. He took another long swallow which, he wasn’t ashamed to admit, burned the whole way down, and cheered as Dwayne cranked a Beastie Boys song to an unholy volume.

“You gotta fight,” Marko shouted along with the song.

“For your right,” Paul shouted.

“To party!” they shouted in unison. Laughter echoed through the room and Michael stopped thinking about going home. There was just now, and now felt better than he could have imagined.

Hours passed with the guys singing and laughing, dancing around the room and making increasingly stupid jokes while trying not to spill their absurd, and absurdly decreasing, amount of liquor. It was when Michael was walking back to the group after taking a piss that he spotted it: a strikingly white guitar with a deep crimson bridge and fretboard and black frets and headstock. It was in a glass case, though not all of the glass was intact. How long had it been there? It wasn't dirty, but it had to be out of tune. He walked over to it and picked it up, running his fingers along the body. It truly was a beautiful guitar. The strap was a simple black leather strap, and as he pulled it on he wondered when it had been replaced. It smelled like new leather. Did the guys play?

He strummed the guitar and began tuning it as best he could over the cacophony happening nearby. Then, the music stopped.

“So, you found Dwayne’s guitar.”

Michael nearly jumped, looking up with wide eyes as the guys walked over. It had been Marko who’d spoken, and he was smiling the whole time. His eyes wandered over to Paul and then to Dwayne, but it was David who spoke next.

“Usually one asks before touching a guitar that isn’t theirs.”

Michael felt his cheek flush. David didn’t sound angry, and none of the guys looked upset. Paul looked vaguely amused and Marko was snickering behind him, one arm slung around his shoulders.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” he hesitated, unsure of what to say. The place was a dump—he should’ve known something this nice would belong to someone. But fuck, he was drunk and high, and it was there and beautiful. “Sorry.” He started to pull the strap back over his head but stopped when David shook his head.

“Well,” David’s lips curved into a lopsided smirk. “Go ahead then. You may as well play. Dwayne never does.”

Michael laughed, then. He was fucked up and had just wanted to admire the guitar. To actually play? He didn’t even have an amp. He wasn’t about to play an electric guitar with no amp. As if sensing the source of his hesitation, Dwayne stepped forward, walked over to a box and opened it, and pulled a small Fender amp out. He set it down and handed Michael the plug. Michael’s laughter died. They actually wanted him to play. Like this.

“I’m pretty drunk. And uh, high.”

“Come on! You gotta sate our curiosity, now.” Marko said.

“Hell yeah, Mikey. And we’ll only make fun of you a little if you suck.” Paul quipped.

Michael took the cord and plugged it into the guitar as Dwayne turned on the amp and adjusted the settings. Michael quickly finished tuning the guitar, painfully aware of the eyes on him. Sure, he’d played some gigs, and he’d played for plenty of friends, but this fucked up? And in front of these guys? He felt something akin to nerves eating at him.

David leaned back against a pillar, arms crossed and eyes fixed on him. Michael shrugged and let out a breath, the fingers of his left hand finding the frets. What to play… Oh, that would do.

He pressed his fingertips into the strings and played, running through the opening to Limelight by Rush. He kept his gaze locked on the guitar, but he’d played this song at least a couple hundred times. He knew it by heart. The nerves melted as his fingers danced up and down the fretboard and hell, he couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his face. His fingers weren’t quite as dexterous as they could be, and he knew his pressure was probably a little higher than it needed to be based on how the strings were digging into his callouses, but the sound? Spot-fucking-on. He finally looked up, his smile unfaltering, and found himself looking right into David’s eyes. He added a flourish, then, throwing in an extra riff before finishing the short section of the song. He’d hardly stopped playing before Marko and Paul applauded raucously, cheering and whooping as the last echoes died around them. Michael unplugged the guitar and took the strap off, setting it back down in its broken glass enclosure as the guys chattered to each other around him.

“Not bad. You part of a band?” David sounded reserved but curious. Like he was sizing Michael up.

“Nah. Just played with some friends for fun. Once in a while we’d join up and play a gig but it wasn’t really a big thing.”

“That’s a shame.” David said. Michael just smiled. David wasn’t the first person to tell him that. “Dwayne used to play. Hasn’t touched it in… awhile, though. Glad to see someone enjoying the guitar.” Dwayne shrugged and put the amp away as Paul and Marko headed back towards the fire and the boombox. Dwayne followed after them but David stayed and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, eyes on Michael as music once again flooded the room. Michael swallowed as his eyes dipped down to land on David’s lips. They snapped back up to his eyes, but from the way David’s head tilted and his eyes gleamed, he’d noticed. Michael cast a glance towards the table where he’d left his tequila, wishing he had something, anything, in his hands to occupy himself. His eyes drifted back to David’s and this time, they stuck. It’s like he couldn’t draw away from the warm luster of his eyes.

“You can play like that after drinking like that. Consider me impressed.”

Michael swallowed again, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “Just love music, I guess. Always have.”

“I’ll have to hear you play sober some time.” David took another drag of his cigarette, and Michael wished he could look anywhere but at the way his mouth moved when he did. David gestured towards the bottle on the table, breaking Michael’s gaze. “Come on, I know you want to.” His lips quirked at the right corner, tugging into a slow, lazy smile. Michael walked over to the bottle of tequila and took another swig before turning back towards David. The man prowled towards him, steps a slow saunter as he moved through a cloud of his own cigarette smoke. A new song came on the radio then which sent heat straight to Michael’s face. He was painfully familiar with the guitar riff and whining vocals.

“ I been thinkin’ bout, thinkin’ bout sex.” It was “Anything Goes” by Guns N’ Roses . Michael had been listening to it all month since it came out. Then David snatched his attention from the song.

David, whose lips turned up further as a wicked gleam entered his eyes. Paul, Marko, and Dwayne were laughing and joking somewhere just out of Michael’s line of sight, and he could only pray they didn’t see the heat rising in his face. David moved even closer, and it was as though the air vanished from the room. He was still, despite the balmy air, wearing that black coat. Hell, he was still wearing gloves. But as he fixed his eyes on Michael, something burned in those blue-gold depths that Michael couldn’t place.

“ Always hungry for somethin’ that I haven’t had yet.”

Michael licked his lips nervously, alcohol making the room spin. Everything but David, in fact, spun dangerously. Michael laughed at the music, at David, at the situation he’d found himself in.

“ Well, maybe, baby, you got somethin’ to lose.”

David prowled closer, stabilizing Michael’s world with his presence. Michael sucked in a breath and the scent of leather, Marlboros, and whiskey made him dizzy. The smell was intoxicating, and he leaned closer.

“ Well, I got somethin’, I got somethin’ for you ”

Laughter echoed down the hall. How far away were they? The music wrapped around him, cocoon-like, shielding him from everything but the foot of space between him and David. When had he come so close? His eyes locked onto David’s, and he could almost swear those flecks of gold in the center had materialized into a solid ring of gold clashing with the blue.

“ My way, your way.”

He and David were spiraling towards one another, the world spinning more violently outside of the bubble of air between them.

“ Anything goes tonight.”

Michael wasn’t sure who moved, only that suddenly he was pressed against David. His eyes slid shut as their lips met, David’s hands coming to his hips as Michael brought his hands up to grab at the lapels of David’s coat. He tasted like whiskey undercut by salt and iron, and damn if that didn’t turn him on. His world stopped spinning as they stood, pressed together and locked in an embrace as time seemed to slow around them. Music floated by, but it seemed distant. The rhythm of David’s breath was all Michael needed to hear. To feel against his chest.

“Michael,” David growled out his name before surging back in for another kiss, this one more rough and passionate than the last. Michael’s head tilted and a moan escaped him as David’s teeth sank into his lower lip—not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to ground him in the moment. Laughter surged into the room, closer than before, and Michael’s eyes shot open as he pulled away from the blond.

It was in that moment that he saw David’s eyes burning like liquid gold, lips parted and chest heaving with the force of his breath. The man felt like alcohol tasted—dizzying and overwhelming and good and terrible and, and, and…

Michael bent over and threw up.

Chapter Text

Michael groaned as he slowly drifted into consciousness. He was… in his bed? How the hell did he get to bed? His head throbbed and the world seemed to tilt and quiver on its axis. Fuck, how much had he had to drink? Too much, that was certain. He needed a toothbrush in a bad way—that was certain, too. What the hell had he even gotten up to? He’d been at the boardwalk and then…

David. Blue eyes flashed in his mind, David’s smile appearing behind his eyes. The ride from the boardwalk, punching the blond, smoking and eating and drinking, playing that beautiful guitar, and… fuck, he’d kissed David, hadn’t he? He’d never kissed a man before. Why the fuck had they kissed?

For a moment he could still taste the man on his tongue—whiskey, Marlboros, and something strangely like iron coming together in an intoxicating blend. Michael brought his fingers to his lips, middle and index finger running across his lower lip where David had bit it. Michael jerked his hand away then. A mistake. It had all been a mistake.

Michael forced himself to a seated position, fighting every second of the way to keep last night’s dinner down. He made himself take three deep breaths, each one slow and measured. He opened his eyes, still moving slowly. The light was blinding. What time was it? He turned his head, looking towards the clock before groaning. It was nearly noon. Sam wouldn’t let him hear the end of this any time soon.

He wasn’t under the covers. In fact, he’d been laying almost sideways on the bed. He’d clearly walked in, collapsed down, and passed out. He’d at least taken his shoes off, which was a plus.

He swung his legs towards the edge of the bed and pressed his sock-clad feet to the floor. He slowly, inch by inch, pressed himself up to a standing position and blinked away the bleariness in his eyes. He needed a shower. Desperately. He’d start there and figure out the rest.

Michael shuffled into the bathroom he shared with Sam, praying that Sam wasn’t in his room. By some stroke of luck, he wasn’t. He was probably (hopefully) downstairs. He shut Sam’s door and locked it before grabbing a towel from the rack and setting it by the shower. He stripped down piece by piece then, peeling alcohol and sweat-soaked clothes from his body. He shivered, alcohol still wreaking havoc on him, as he turned on the water for the shower. He waited until it was absolutely scalding before getting in, letting the water turn his skin pink with heat. He shut his eyes and sighed as the water drenched him, taking slow breaths to forget about the night he’d had. He needed the burn just a little. Just, well, a lot. He wasn’t really sure what to make of what happened, but he was hell-bound to avoid the boardwalk after what had gone down.

After a long shower, he dried off and felt marginally better, aside from the consistent growling of his stomach. Michael quickly dressed in a comfortable pair of sweats and a tank top before heading downstairs.

It was one in the afternoon when he walked down for what would have been breakfast but was now definitely lunch. As he suspected, Sam was downstairs on the couch with a comic. He turned to face Michael as he walked down and made a face that screamed “you’re irresponsible.” Michael walked right past him and into the kitchen, already thinking about the sandwich he was going to make. Sam didn’t follow.

As he made his turkey sandwich the press of David’s lips against his own played in his head. He wanted, more than anything, for it to stop. He’d just been drunk and David had been there. He was pretty sure, too, that David had kissed him rather than the other way around. Not that it mattered that they’d kissed. He’d probably never see the blond again. That was for the best, anyways.

“So, you’ve finally decided to join the living.”

Michael sighed at Sam’s approach. “You pick that up from your vampire comic?” he retorted. Michael didn’t turn to look but could almost hear Sam roll his eyes.

“Thanks for that, by the way. Those weirdos gave me their number in case ‘I ever need to call them.’”

“Why would you need to call them?” A sort of dread filled Michael. Sam wasn’t… couldn’t be… Sam just shrugged.

“They kept going on about vampires. They’re probably sniffing old newsprint or something.”

Michael let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. They were just kids being kids and playing pretend. That was okay. Sam was okay, and Michael would be okay too.

“You okay? You seem… off.”

Michael looked at Sam, eyes narrowed against the light. “I’m fine, Sammy.”

“You’re hungover, aren’t you?” A kind of glee lit up his face. “Admit it, you’ve got a hangover!”

Michael fought the urge to groan. He really wasn’t in the mood for Sam’s teasing. “Shut up, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re lucky I don’t tell mom.” He paused, expression shifting towards one of confusion. “But you’re not twenty one. Where’d you get the alcohol? You don't have any friends.”

Flashes of David leapt to the forefront of Michael’s mind. His strong hands on Michael’s hips and the firm press of his lips. He fought the blush rising in his cheeks but Sam was too observant for his own good. His grin widened.

“You met a girl, didn't ‘cha?” He laughed, a short, sharp sound, before refocusing on Michael.

“Not your business.”

“So you did!” His nose scrunched as his grin widened. “Was she cute?” Sam was, despite being a shit, sincere. Damn, that was annoying. He couldn't just tell Sam to piss off; there was nothing to be done, really, but lie. He made a show of rolling his eyes and taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Sam,” he said through a mouthful of food, “of course she was.”

Sam wrinkled his nose for a different reason now. “Come on, man. That's gross.”

Michael smiled at him around his mouth full of food and Sam gagged.

“Alright, alright. Keep your secrets.”

Michael could have sighed with relief. He supposed he could have talked about Star, but what if Sam met her for some reason? With Michael's luck her boyfriend would come up, and they'd both look bad. And then the truth would come out, and Michael would look even worse. He swallowed his bite of food.

“Mike, can you take me back to the comic shop?”

Oh, how badly he wanted to say no. Honestly, he was ready to turn tail and run back to Phoenix.

“Sure, Sammy.” He said instead. He wouldn't hide. He'd just ignore the guy and that would be that. He'd make it clear he wasn't gay, and then they'd have nothing to discuss.

“You're moody since we got here. You been watching too much Dynasty ?”

“We don't even have a TV.”

Sam nodded at this, expression pensive. “Yeah, I like to pretend we do. Keeps the existential dread at bay.”

Michael smiled at his brother then, unable to hide his amusement. “You’re a weird kid.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now finish eating so we can go to the comic shop.” Sam said, turning around and heading back into the living room. He threw himself onto the couch in a way that made the springs groan and reopened his discarded comic. He was still reading Vampires Everywhere , which made Michael smile. The kid was a good little brother. 

Michael hardly tasted his sandwich as he ate it, just as he hardly noticed putting on his socks and shoes. Would he see David at the boardwalk? He’d run into the guy every time he went. But now he was going during the day, just like the first time. And Michael supposed he hadn’t seen David that first time. So maybe he’d manage to avoid him today. The guy would be sleeping off his hangover. Hell, maybe David had been drunk enough to forget. That made something twist in Michael’s chest. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Michael stepped out into the sunlight, following Sam, and squinted. Damn the sun was bright. His head throbbed briefly as his eyes adjusted, but the throbbing died down to a dull ache before too long. He wasn’t one for prayer, but he sent a quick thanks to whoever made sure that young people’s hangovers weren’t as monumental as they probably ought to be. His thoughts refocused on the drive before him as he got onto his bike and Sam got on behind him.

“Can we get ice cream?”

Yeah, that figured. He turned it down yesterday just to ask for it today.

“No.” Michael started his bike, revving it just a little. This was good. Spending time with Sam would get his mind off of the things he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Sam complained as Michael kicked off and set out towards town.

It wasn’t a terribly long drive to the boardwalk. He thought about parking in the actual parking lot but decided against it. He’d park where David and the guys parked and see if they were there. If they were… well, he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

Michael pulled up to his usual parking spot around two in the afternoon. His bike was the only one there, and he could have sighed with relief. He let Sam hop off the bike before he swung his leg over and got off himself. They wandered through the boardwalk, meandering despite knowing where to go. There were so many things to look at, and they seemed to change daily. All three times that Michael had visited the boardwalk it was different, and there was something charming about that. He missed Phoenix a hell of a lot, but Santa Carla wasn’t bad. Except, well, that it was.

A board of missing persons posters reminded Michael that this place was dangerous, and he double checked that Sam was close to him. He wasn’t about to admit that their mom was right, but he would be careful. He sure as hell wouldn’t let anything happen to his brother.

They passed an ice cream shop and Sam cleared his throat. Michael looked over, ready to tell him to cut that shit out, but Sam had the biggest eyes. He was pouting. He, a boy of fifteen, was pouting like a damn puppy. And it was working . Michael groaned.

“Seriously?”

“Michael, when’s the last time we had ice cream?”

“Not that-”

“Not since Phoenix is the correct answer.”

Michael sighed. He saw where Sam was going with this.

“What if the ice cream here is better? What if it’s better and we don’t even know?

“Ice cream is ice cream.

“Except when it isn’t. Except when it’s an absolutely amazing experience for your mouth.”

Michael eyed Sam for a long moment. “Never phrase it that way again, and I’ll buy it for you.”

Sam’s pout vanished in an instant. He grinned, satisfied by his victory. He led the way to the shop and opened the door, darting in without so much as a glance back at Michael. He rolled his eyes and followed after, heading inside the shop. The shop was small and not particularly busy. It was likely between rushes, given how warm the day was.

It was easily eighty degrees, but there was a breeze that cut down on the worst of the heat. It wasn’t like Phoenix though, which was a dry heat. No, this was a warm, sticky, wet heat that clung to his skin and clothes. Michael felt like he was melting.

A couple minutes and several licks of an ice cream cone later, Michael was secretly glad that he’d caved to his brother. The ice cream wasn’t different, but it was cold and delicious and really, what more could he ask for on a day like this? As they were walking idly around the boardwalk, enjoying their ice cream, Micheal heard his name.

“Michael!” A voice said again. He turned, squinting in the light, and saw the girl from the music store. Sam flashed him a quick look, eyes scouring Michael’s face for tells. He tried his best to stay neutral but polite. Nothing to make Sam think he was into her, which shouldn’t be too hard given that he definitely wasn’t. He offered a small wave in greeting. She was wearing a pastel purple tank top and flowing white pants that were fitted at her ankle. She looked stunning, and Michael wondered what the hell was wrong with him that he wasn’t into her.

“Hey. It’s Star, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, closing the distance between them. She was wearing a handful of bangles that jangled as she walked, and a couple thin golden rings encircled her fingers. But her fingertips… As she waved politely to Sam, he realized that she had similar callouses to him. She didn’t just work at the music store, she played music. “I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I walked away practically in the middle of a conversation.”

Michael shook his head. “No. No, don’t worry about it. I… uh, the band. The band was really good and you know. You said your boyfriend was playing.” He wanted to crawl into a hole. When had he become this terrible at holding a conversation? This was just sad. Star just smiled, expression much too earnest.

“No way. I was totally rude. Let me buy you dinner tonight. I’d love to get to know you.” She kept up that soft smile, head tilting slightly sending curls cascading over her shoulder. “I’m picking up a couple hours at the shop today, but if you’re free around seven you could meet me there? There’s a great Mexican restaurant right off the boardwalk we could go to.”

What did he say to that? What could he say to that? He flashed a quick smile and nodded. “Yeah, that ah, that sounds cool.”

She nodded. “Great. I’ll see you at seven.” She waved again at Michael first and then Sam, and then turned and headed off towards the music shop. Sam turned to stare at him, eyes wide and accusatory.

“Did you just get a date?”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“She asked you on a date.”

“She’s being nice. She knows I’m new to the city. And she has a boyfriend.”
Sam nodded, pensive. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s out of your league, and she knows it.”

Michael rolled his eyes and licked his ice cream. Seven. He could do dinner at seven. Sam started walking again, and asked Michael between licks of his ice cream: “So, then, what do you want to do to kill time? Do you want to play some games? Go on a ride? Except the carousel. It looks boring.” Sam stopped, turning to him with his nose scrunched. “Do you think that-”

“Let’s play that game.” Michael interrupted him, pointing at a booth. It was one of the booths where you shot water at a target until a buzzer sounded.

Sam opened his mouth to argue, then licked his ice cream cone and shrugged. “Sure.” Distracting the kid had never been much of a challenge. He was always willing to accept a bribe.

The game turned into two turned into five spent at the booths. Finally, Michael tapped out. It was encroaching upon three thirty and his wallet was begging him to stop. Sam was a pretty good sport about the whole thing and was even fairly quiet on the walk towards the comic shop. He was taking in the sights, same as Michael, because even several days into visiting the boardwalk there was just so much to see. The people-watching alone would have drawn his attention.

As they rounded a corner and Michael’s bike came into view he had a horrible, sinking thought: he’d just committed to plans at the boardwalk. He was rolling the dice not once but twice. In one day. There were no bikes parked next to his, but something warned him that wouldn’t be the case tonight.

“Mike?”

Sam’s voice jerked him back to the present, where he realized that he’d stopped in the middle of the path. He shook his head. He’d just park in the main lot and then meet up with Star. There were thousands of people on this boardwalk, what were the odds of running into David? Slim to nil, right?

“The comic shop is around the corner.” Sam said, reminding him of their goal. Michael nodded. 

“We’ll head in, grab a couple comics, and then we need to go home.” 

Sam opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. He smiled, then. “Yeah, alright. Gotta get cleaned up for your date, right?” There was that shit-eating grin. Michael just rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

Seven o’clock found Michael outside the music shop with no sign of Star. Of course she wouldn't get off right at seven. He'd worked enough (well, he'd worked one formal job and known a few people who worked in places like this) to know that retail jobs meant you got out when you got out. But the shop was technically closed, so how long could she really be?

He leaned against the wall, the leather keeping the rough siding from scraping against his skin in most places. He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed the crowd. It was beginning to pick up, people milling about in lines for rides or to play games. People went in and out of shops and—

Blonde hair caught his eye. Fuck, it couldn’t be. The man turned and Michael let out a breath. It wasn't him.

He'd parked in the main parking lot tonight in an attempt to prevent what felt like the inevitable. If he didn't acknowledge the fact that they might be there, they simply wouldn't be there. At least, that was the stupid, nonsensical logic he used. So, the walk to the music shop had been longer but altogether the opposite of boring.

He missed Phoenix. Walking through the boardwalk reminded him of the street he’d once lived near. It was loud at night, full of bars and an arcade. The whole thing was right across from a mall that Michael used to get high at and wander around. When he drank it was at his best friend’s dad’s bar, where they served him just enough to get him a little drunk. He’d leave laughing, the chill of the desert at night kept at bay by the alcohol, and stumble to the arcade. Michael used to stand for hours at the arcade in front of the games, playing Mortal Kombat, Pac Man, Galaga, and every other game in the arcade. He and Adrián were never on the top score chart, but they were always pretty close. Adrián... He missed Adrián.

To think, two weeks ago tonight he’d been with Adrián, sitting out in the desert with a case of beer talking about meeting somewhere in the middle. The middle, between Santa Carla, California and Phoenix, Arizona. It had been Michael’s last night in Phoenix.

He promised Adrián he’d call.

What the hell would he say?

“Hey, sorry it took so long! The place was crazy.”

Star’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. Adrián faded like a dream into the recesses of his mind, but Michael knew he’d be back. He smiled at Star, taking in the thick mass of hair that sat in a bun atop her head. A few errant curls escaped the confines of the bun, and Michael wondered whether it was on purpose.

“All good,” he said finally. His voice sounded rough and he cleared his throat. “So, is the food at that place any good?”

She smiled a little wider, brows arching. “I didn’t recommend it because it’s bad.” Michael opened and then closed his mouth, embarrassed. She tilted her head. “It’s good, I think you’ll like it. Now, come on. It’s just past the western exit, and I’m starving.”

The western exit. Exactly where David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko parked their bikes. He forced a smile. They wouldn’t be there. It would be fine.

“Yeah, sounds great.” He made sure he sounded like he meant it.

The sun was sinking in the horizon, casting long shadows, but Star seemed to glow in its radiance. He could get behind hanging out with her. Maybe her boyfriend would be cool, and he could make two friends out of the situation. She started walking in the direction of the western exit and Michael was quick to follow.

“Star’s nice, by the way. I like Star.”

She turned to look at him, confusion written on her face. Michael was quick to amend himself.

“My parents are hippies too. I was this close to being named Moonbeam or Moonchild.” He held index finger and thumb close together, almost touching, and she laughed.

“Yeah, my parents are definitely hippies.”

Michael smiled at that. Star relaxed a little as they walked, shoulders dropping as her fingers found their way to her hair. She didn’t seem at all phased by the boardwalk, which, why would she be? She worked here every day and the music shop was in the middle of everything. He could hardly imagine all the strange things she’d seen. That was one thing he could say about Santa Carla—the people were weirder.

It wasn’t long before they rounded a corner and saw the western exit. Except, there were no bikes.
There was no David.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief as they walked through the covered section of the boardwalk. Star wasn’t wrong; the restaurant was right off of the boardwalk, just a minute away from the noise and the bright lights. The building resembled the restaurants he knew back home—stucco walls, a low grade red shingled roof, and plain double doors. He stepped up, opening the door for her before following her inside.

It was a cozy little restaurant, with only a dozen and a half or so tables and a bar. The lights were dim and the music was at a good volume. Yeah, this place definitely reminded him of home.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.”

Michael turned towards the voice and sucked in a breath. The owner of the voice looked just like Adrián. Light brown skin, thick black hair, and dark, soulful eyes. His features were strong and his jaw was rounded, and Michael could do nothing but stare.

“Who’s your friend?” The guy continued, looking at Michael. He smiled easily, expression light and friendly.

“Michael,” he said finally. “I’m Michael. I just met Star the other night and she, well…”

“Michael’s new in town,” Star interjected. “I’m showing him around.”

Michael just nodded, jaw flexing. He could have been Adrián’s brother. The eyes were just slightly off, the mouth a little too wide, but he looked so similar. The same nose and cheekbones. The same jaw. His chest ached at the thought.

“Welcome to Santa Carla,” he said, voice warm.

“Thanks,” Michael replied. He cleared his throat again. “It’s a pretty cool place,” he said. The guy smiled and looked at Star.
“A cool place filled with unique people.” He held out his hand. “I’m Gabe. Nice to meet you Michael.”

“Gabe is my boyfriend,” Star explained. Michael just nodded.

“Nice to meet you,” he said roughly.

“Come on, I’ll get you a table.” Gabe grabbed a couple menus and looked at a laminated map of the restaurant. The place was busy; most of the tables were filled. There were only a few corner booths left, the tiny ones where each person had just a little room to sit and the food was crowded on the table. It worked though—Michael didn’t need a lot of space. He got the feeling Star didn’t, either. Gabe walked back to the host stand and Star fixed Michael with a curious expression.

“Do you know him?” He could hear the confusion in her voice. He shook his head.

“No, he just reminds me of someone. A friend I had back in Phoenix.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you’re from Phoenix. Gabe and I visited there last summer. We were visiting his cousin,-”

“Adrián?”

Star shut her mouth. She stared at him, eyes fixed on him intently. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Michael laughed. Adrián invited him to meet his cousin and his girlfriend the weekend that Michael was out camping with Sam. Now… well, maybe this would make staying in contact with his friend easier. Adrián had mentioned visiting family before over long weekends, but never mentioned where he went when he visited. It must be Santa Carla. Michael sucked in a breath, feeling a tension in his chest ease at the thought of Adrián coming here. 

“He was my closest friend back in Phoenix.”

Star's eyes widened. “Oh, you're the Michael. Michael… Emmerson?”

Michael nodded, feeling more at ease than he expected. Maybe this place wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen. It was still possible, but perhaps less likely.

“So, why'd you move to Santa Carla?”

He had a feeling he'd get this question a lot. It's like people didn't expect anyone to come here. As if it wasn't a big city with tons of people. Michael opened his mouth to reply when Gabe walked back over.

“Sorry, I got sidetracked by a couple of regulars. Do you need anything? Know what you want to order?” Michael wanted to ask him for a beer but didn't. They'd no doubt card him and that would be that. He shook his head.

“Sorry, we’ve been talking. Give us a minute to decide?” Star twirled a curl around her finger, eyes bright as she looked at him.

“No problem. I’ll be back in a few.” Gabe went back to the host stand.

Star turned her attention back to Michael, looking at him expectantly. Great, so he wasn't getting out of this.

“My mom just went through a divorce. We moved in with my grandpa after the split. He's lived here…” how long had the old man lived here? “A long time,” he said finally. Star nodded at this, expression sympathetic. Michael looked down at the menu to avoid her gaze.

Having lived in Phoenix, Michael was no stranger to Mexican food; he only hoped that the food in Santa Carla was as good. He focused on the menu to distract himself from the fact that she was still looking at him.

The menu was pretty basic, but the chicken fajitas sounded good. The vegetables that usually came with fajitas were hard to mess up, and then he got to put together his own taco-like creations. 

He and Star talked for a while, ordered, and then talked some more about everything from Phoenix to ice cream to their younger siblings. She had an adopted younger brother named Laddie, who was too young to be Sam's friend but sounded like a sweet kid, and an older sister who lived here in the city. He enjoyed listening to Star as well as his brief talks with Gabe when he wound up at their table. Gabe was a drummer for Gravel Tongue, a new punk band that did a mix of covers and original music. Before long their food arrived, and they took turns talking in between bites.

“I meant to ask: you play guitar, right?”

“I’m learning, yeah. My sister got me a Fender acoustic a few years ago when I moved here.”

“Just learning for fun?”

She smiled almost shyly, then. “Well, not entirely. With Gabe’s band doing well, I’m thinking of one day forming my own band. Just need to meet more people who play.”

“That’s pretty rad. What kind of music would you want to play?”

She picked at her food for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure. I really love Fleetwood Mac and Heart. And Pat Benetar. Maybe their kind of rock.” She took another bite. “What about you? What kind of music do you play?” She asked after swallowing.

Michael shrugged. “Rock, too, mostly. Aerosmith, AC/DC, Motley Crue, Rush, Bon Jovi...” He paused for a moment. “But I like other stuff, too, you know?” The moment he said it he felt his cheeks go flush. Images of last night flooded his brain. David, looking at him with those stunningly blue eyes while Michael’s fingers played “Limelight” of their own volition. The way the blond tasted as he’d kissed him to a Guns N Roses song. Michael took a long sip of his water, praying Star wouldn’t notice.

“You been playing long?” If she noticed his cheeks reddening, she didn’t mention it. Michael nodded, still swallowing.

“Yeah. Been playing since I was eleven. My dad got me my first guitar that year. A Gibson. It was just a basic acoustic guitar, but I loved it, you know?”

“You ever write your own songs?”
Michael shrugged. “Sometimes. I used to play with Adrián back in Phoenix. He’s one hell of a bassist. We wrote songs together more often than I wrote them myself. He’s better with lyrics than I am.”

 Any other day, Michael would be riveted by the conversation but today? His mind kept wandering. It drifted to Phoenix and Adrián, but it also drifted to David. What was David doing tonight?

“So, you need a job?”

“Hell yes,” he said without thinking, attention snapping back to her. “I mean, yeah, that’d be great.”

Star smiled. “I can put in a good word with the manager. She’s looking for a new employee. Come by the shop Wednesday morning. We open at ten thirty.”

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Jobs around Santa Carla were scarce, and he was relieved that Star had just made life easier for him.

Michael attempted to pay for their meal both as a thank you and to be polite but Star handed Gabe cash and that was that. She waved him off when he protested, saying that she’d “worked today and could afford it.”

“Thank you,” he said again, but he felt like a simple thanks fell short.

The sun had fully set by the time they left the restaurant. Gabe kissed Star on the way out and Michael looked away. He was glad Gabe was cool. A lot of guys wouldn’t be okay with their girl hanging around a guy like him. Gabe didn’t seem particularly interested in controlling Star, though. Adrián had been the same way. Michael had hung out with his girlfriends more than once without Adrián being there, usually when the three of them hung out before Adrián went to work. Maybe it was because he knew Michael was terrible with women, but more likely because he trusted them both.

Thinking about Adrián made his chest ache and he shook those thoughts away. He’d call Adrián tomorrow and they’d catch up.

“Michael,” called a voice like velvet. He looked up, straight into ocean-blue eyes.

Chapter Text

David sat astride his bike, cigarette between his gloved fingers. He smirked, eyes dragging slowly down Michael's body. Michael flushed, face burning red as David’s eyes flicked back up to his. David’s confident expression faltered and his eyes slid over to Star.

“You made a friend.”

Michael scoffed. “Yeah, I did.”

David’s jaw flexed. Marko and Paul flanked him on either side with Dwayne bringing up the rear. His gaze didn’t falter again—there was a cold severity as he stayed locked on Michael. It finally broke as he smiled again, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“Walk with me, Michael.”

“No.”

This seemed to catch David off guard.

“And here I thought we were friends.”

Michael didn’t break his gaze, locked on those ocean blue eyes burning from within. There was a kind of intensity in the look that reminded Michael of the night before. He broke and turned to Star.

“I’ll meet you at the stage?”

Star seemed to consider this for a long moment, eyes flitting between them. She finally nodded before reaching out and gently squeezing his shoulder. She smiled as she walked around the small group. David got off his bike as she passed—he didn’t spare her a glance. He took another long drag before tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. Michael could only suck in a quick breath and stare. David looked at him then, the intensity of a brewing hurricane fixing squarely on him.

“Let’s go then,” Michael said, finding his voice.

David turned, gesturing towards the stairs down to the beach. Michael walked past him and sure enough he heard the steady bootfalls of David behind him. What the fuck was he doing? He shouldn't be talking to this asshole.

They walked out onto the beach and away from the bonfire, just to the right of the stairs. It was there, under the crescent moon that he turned and faced David in the dark.

The man was all predator, eyes catching the moonlight as he surveyed Michael. His expression was even and aloof. Michael tried to match him. He was drunk last time they were this close—this time he was in complete control.

“What is it you want?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me.” David regarded him carefully, eyes intense but lacking their usual confident gleam. He seemed sincere—the opposite of what Michael expected, really. He wasn’t soft. Wasn’t vulnerable. There was still something unyielding in those eyes, stony beside the fire burning around his pupils, but it was muted. Michael found himself wanting to understand. To know what was going on in the man's head.

“Yeah? What do I have wrong?”

David took a slow breath. His eyes slid shut and he tilted his head up towards the moon. It bathed him in its pale light, washing the color from his skin until he looked to be made of moonlight. He breathed out, eyes opening and fixing on the bright moon before he turned back to Michael.

“I just want to be your friend, Michael.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting to the sides. He grit his teeth and stepped in close, hissing his reply: “Do you kiss all your friends?”

David blinked slowly. He frowned then, truly frowned. He shook his head as though shaking off a thought. “Mistakes happen. If you recall, we’d been drinking all night.” Something eased off in Michael’s chest. “I just think you shouldn’t discount me, and the rest of the guys, because of something like that.”

Michael wanted to tell him to piss off. He opened his mouth to do just that and then shut it again. He’d had fun with them. The taste of danger was just that—a taste. How much more was to come if he continued down this road? Michael knew damn well that he was drawn to trouble. Knew it and couldn’t stop it. Wouldn’t stop it, if he was being honest.

“That can’t happen again.”

David nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Not good enough. Tell me it won’t happen.”

David scoffed. “You need it that bad?”

Michael grit his teeth again, jaw flexing.

“Alright, alright. It won’t happen.” David’s eyes were locked on Michael’s, expression guarded. Michael couldn’t read him, but his words sounded sincere.

A thought nagged at him then. He wanted to dismiss it but he realized almost immediately it would be one of those thoughts that wouldn’t go away. Michael winced.

“Why the hell do you want me in your little group so bad?”

David nodded contemplatively at this, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You’re interesting.”

“Interesting? Everyone in this city is ‘interesting.’ You’ll have to do better than that.”

David laughed then, a low sound that took Michael by surprise. He nodded again, smiling and taking another slow breath. He ran his tongue over his teeth before exhaling. “I’m not sure what it is about you. You’re reckless and drawn to danger like a moth to a flame. You’re going to get burned, and I don’t want to see it. If you’re with us… Well, trust me. You can have all the fun you want with none of the consequences.”

“And why is that? You in a gang?”

David laughed then. “Not exactly.” His laugh died down to a smile as he shook his head. “No, it’s only the four of us. Just… trust me. We don’t stay in the trouble we get up to.” David pulled out another cigarette, extending it towards Michael.

Michael ran a hand through his hair again. This guy was more trouble than he was worth. He would fuck Michael over, he was certain. So, he wasn’t sure why he nodded. “Alright.” He reached out for the cigarette, accepting the offering and knowing full well he was damning himself in doing so. He laughed, pressing it between his lips and leaning in as David held out the lighter and sparked it. Michael inhaled the smoke and a wave of calm washed over him along with the nicotine. He shut his eyes for a moment. “You win.”

David smirked then, the right side of his mouth curving upwards at Michael’s words.

“Good. Then come with us tonight.”

“I told Star I’d meet her.”

David waved a hand nonchalantly. “Star will forgive you. The guys and I have something fun planned.”

“More drinking and smoking in an abandoned hotel?” Michael said it dismissively, pretending it wasn’t one of the coolest things he’d ever done. He couldn’t deny that he’d had a great time with the guys and wanted to see where the night went. The beautiful guitar called to him, too. But, Star was getting him a job and she was genuinely nice. He couldn't turn around and fuck her over. He shook his head. “Whatever it is, count me out tonight. I’m not abandoning Star.”

David nodded slowly. “Alright. But next time we come calling, I suggest you join us.” It wasn’t a threat. Honestly, Michael wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He just nodded, eyes fixed on the man.

David turned towards the stairs, looking back at the guys who were talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be having a good time—they were shoving each other and laughing based on the way their shoulders shook. Michael had no doubt someone—Paul—had started some shit and antagonized Marko or Dwayne. He hadn’t spent much time with them, but it didn’t take much to figure that pattern out. David smiled up at them. 

“We aren’t a gang, Michael, but we are a family. You’ll come to see that.” Michael just nodded, eyes fixed on the guys. He was right, they were a lot of fun to hang around with. He smiled at them before his eyes drifted to David. There was a warmth in the man’s expression that Michael had only seen when he looked at the guys. It wasn’t something Michael expected. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with David, but it was abundantly clear despite that that he was a hard man to understand. For now, Michael found that he was okay with that. He didn’t really need to understand.

“Who was that?” Star asked as Michael approached her. She was near the stands by the stage, fingers curled around a strand of hair. Michael shrugged.

“Friend of mine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Didn't seem very friendly.” Michael smiled at that, the corner of his mouth curving up.

“He's like that.”

She nodded slowly. “Anyways, I'm not sure who's playing tonight but do you want to catch them?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

She turned and headed into the crowd, this time waiting for him to follow.

He cut through the crowd, catching snippets of conversation. He walked by a pair of girls with perms and neon sweaters just as the one on the left said, “And then, Stacy was like ‘gag me with a spoon’ but that bitch doesn’t even have a gag reflex.” Michael hurried on past whatever the hell that conversation was, chasing after Star who was surprisingly fast moving through a crowd. He managed to stay close to her, barely, until they got to… wherever ‘here’ was.

They were fairly close to the stage, surrounded by hundreds of bodies. It was a Sunday night, so it wasn’t as packed as it had been other nights, but it was still busy. They were clearly between sets, with the instruments on the stage fully set up but no people on the stage to play them. The headliner would be out soon, no doubt. Well, if you could call a Sunday night boardwalk band a headliner. Then again, this could be a big deal spot. Michael didn’t know enough to say, as of yet. Star turned to him then, eyes bright under the moon. They were as dark as ever, but the silver radiance brought out a warm caramel shade that swirled through the rich, dark mocha. She was beautiful. Gabe was lucky to have a girl like her. 

He thought back to Sadie. Sadie, who he’d been on and off with for over a year. Sadie, who told him to “go fuck himself” almost as often as she said “I love you.” Sadie… He didn’t think he’d miss her.

The band walked out moments later, waving to the crowd. They were an all-female band and the lead singer was… well, she was unique. Star leaned over to him. “That’s Carmilla. She’s a friend of Gabe’s. They worked together once. She’s pretty cool when she’s in town.” Michael nodded as she spoke, eyes on Carmilla. She was tall, but the black platform boots she wore were definitely helping. Her skin was incredibly pale, and her pitch black hair was permed and teased to hell and back. Michael’s eyes were drawn to the fishnet stockings she wore under her short black skirt, and the heavy black leather jacket that completed the ensemble. She was striking. Beautiful. Nothing like the girls back home. Carmilla was, without a doubt, one hell of a woman.

The music started then and Michael sunk into the sound. It was loud enough that it reverberated through his chest, which was exactly how he liked it—loud enough to get lost in. The sound was metal-adjacent, with a fast-paced funky bassline accentuated by a keyboard and offset by a slower drumline.  It was interesting musically, but Michael felt it in the crowd the moment Carmilla opened her mouth. Her voice was like nothing he’d ever heard.

She was a siren. This was what sirens sounded like. She wasn’t a soprano. No, she was an alto. Her voice was lower and had a gravity to it, drawing him into every word.

“ Lover, lover, bring me your lips. Bring me your soul, I want just a sip. ”

A hush fell over the crowd, a kind of breathless anticipation of what was to come. And she held them there, spellbound, until she picked up a black electric guitar. She set a slow rhythm, the sound deep and melodic as her fingertips moved along the fretboard. Michael found his fingers mirroring hers at his side as he fixated on the sound. He wanted to capture it and explore it on his guitar. The melody wasn’t complicated, but it was beautiful. Captivating. He watched her fingers intently, sinking into the lull of her voice until a whisper invaded, creeping like a worm into Michael’s ear.

“Michael.”

He looked around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Michael,” called the voice again. It was a voice like velvet, smooth and low and musical in its own right.

“David?” He looked around for the man, scanning the crowd for that peroxide blonde hair. Only, he was nowhere to be found. Michael shook his head, refocusing on the band.

“ Breathe into me, let me live through you. ”

The band was moody and intense, a gothic sound that Michael had never heard in metal before. But, nagging at the back of his head was David. David, whose voice whispered in his ear. He shook his head, refocusing and allowing his fingers to mimic hers as he fixated on the chords and strumming pattern.

What would it be like to get to know a woman like her? Michael couldn't even imagine dating her. She was a force of nature, to be certain. She had a preternatural stillness about her. She sang and she played, but she hung in the spaces between breaths. It seemed as though stillness, complete and utter stillness, was as easy as breathing. Every motion was purposeful. Intentional. Beautiful. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

He wasn’t sure how many songs they’d played when Star tugged at his arm.

“I’ve got to go,” she said over the music. Michael nodded and she, once again, turned and headed into the crowd. Michael cast one more look at the stage, at Carmilla and that beautiful guitar, before following her.

It was easier to head for the outskirts of the crowd than it had been to get in. They were out in no time at all, really. When they were far enough from the music to think, she turned to face him and smiled.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight. It was fun.”

Michael offered a small smile and nodded.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Thanks,” he said finally. “For the job interview. I’ll see you then.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you around.” She turned then, heading towards the east exit. It wasn’t long before she vanished into the crowd, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the music. He turned back towards the band, though he couldn’t see the stage. He wanted to go back into the throng of people, but another part of him wanted to return home and play the songs while they were fresh in his mind. He could maybe recreate a couple of the melodies…

His fingertips moved to the rhythm of her song the whole ride home. 

Chapter Text

Michael wasn’t up till nearly ten. He’d gotten home around ten the night before, but he’d sat out under the moon and played his acoustic guitar for an hour or so after that. He’d managed to get something similar to her sound, and he was fascinated by it. Carmilla’s band, The Queens of the Damned , had one hell of a style. As he threw on clothes he looked over at the telephone, realizing he’d meant to call Adrián. And he would. After breakfast.

He headed downstairs, fingertips still tapping out a rhythm against his thigh as he hummed a melody he couldn’t remember the words to. Sam was downstairs on the couch, as always, with a comic in hand. It was that Vampires Everywhere comic he’d said he wouldn’t like, but had been reading consistently nonetheless. Michael quirked a small smile and headed straight into the kitchen.

“What’s that song  you were playing last night?” Sam called to him without looking up.

“Some band I saw with Star.”

“Oh yeah! Your date!”

“Not a date, Sammy.”

Sam looked up then just to roll his eyes at Michael. “You know, you’re no fun to tease lately. You’re so serious.” He squinted. “You talk to Adrián lately?”

“Was gonna do that today. Why?”

“You’re just sulky without him.” Sam said, eyes returning to his comic. It was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I am not sulky.”

Sam scoffed, a disbelieving smile on his lips. “Sure you’re not.”

Michael dropped the conversation in favor of making himself a sandwich. He definitely wasn’t sulking, he’d just been busy. He missed his friend, sure, but he’d already made new friends. And besides, he was allowed to miss the guy. They’d been best friends since they were kids. Still, as he ate his sandwich, he thought about how long it’d been since they’d talked. This was the longest they’d gone in… Michael couldn’t remember. And who knew when he’d actually see Adrián again.

Michael rinsed his plate and left it in the sink, heading back upstairs to call his friend. His stomach felt like it was in knots, and he realized: he was nervous to talk to him. He sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. Nothing was different. Adrián was still his best friend. He let out the breath he’d been holding and picked up the phone. He dialed Adrián’s number and held the phone up to his ear.

It started ringing.

“¿ Hola ?” It was a girl’s voice—one he knew well. 

“Hi, Marietta.”

“Adrián! It’s Michael!” This wasn’t directed at him; Marietta was shouting down the hall for her brother. She then set the phone down with a distinctive thump. Michael felt his stomach twist again as he sat there waiting for his friend to pick up the phone.

“Michael!”

Michael let out a breath, unable to keep from smiling. 

“Adrián,” he said finally. He shut his eyes again, basking in the comfortable warmth of his friend’s voice.

“How you been, man?” Adrián asked.

“Pretty good.” He said, and tried to ignore the note of uncertainty in his response. Things were good. He meant it.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then tell me everything.”

And so Michael did. He told Adrián all about the drive into Santa Carla. About his grandpa playing dead, and Sam wanting to go back to Phoenix. He told him about the boardwalk, his mom’s job, and about meeting Star and Gabe, and then he told him about the guys. About David. Talking about David was strange. He was a hard man to explain, and Michael hardly tried. He told Adrián about the not-quite-race and everything that had gone down leading up to and following it. Everything except the kiss.

“And then the asshole stops me last night and asks me to keep hanging out with them.”

“ Hermano , I wish I knew that you’d said no.” Michael smiled wryly at that. They both knew exactly what Michael had said to David.

“You’re the biggest sucker I know, Mike.”

“You must not be very self-reflective.”

“Ooh, low blow.”

“Just callin’ it like I see it.”

Adrián was silent on the line for a long moment. “I miss you. Phoenix isn’t the same without you.”

“I’ll visit soon. Or maybe you could visit me in Santa Carla.”

“About that.”

Michael’s heart sank. Something was wrong. He could hear it in Adrián’s voice.

“It’s my abuelita . You know that cough she had?”

Michael nodded before realizing Adrián couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I remember. The one she’d had for a week. I thought it was getting better?”

“It was, but then it took a turn and developed into pneumonia.”

“Shit, Adrián…”

“I can’t leave Phoenix right now. Abuelita needs me, and so do my parents and Marietta.”

“I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

“She’d like that.”

“She’ll be alright, Adrián. She’s pulled through worse than pneumonia.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. She’s just so…” Adrián sighed. “Well, she’s been better.”

“Haven’t we all.”

Adrián laughed. “If you want some better news, I’ve got some.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Sadie has taken to wearing black like she’s in mourning and people say she's broken down in tears twice this week.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Tell me about it.”

Michael shook his head. “She didn’t even like me that much. What’s her angle?”

“Rumor has it Don is trying to ask her out.”

Michael laughed, really laughed, then. “Damn. I’d be playing the widow too if Don Montresor was trying to ask me out.”

Adrián laughed. “It’s pretty awful. He even brought her flowers. Flowers!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Sounds like him.”

“And not like her.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Adrián, get off the phone!” Michael heard Marietta yelling in the background.

“ Callate! ”

“ ¿Callate? ¿Quieres que me calle? ” Marietta launched into a tirade then. She looked so pretty and sweet, disguising the she-devil she really was. Michael couldn’t help but laugh, though—he’d missed them both.

“ Mierda , I gotta go. Call again soon!” The words came out in a flurry and Michael suspected that Adrián was dodging projectiles. He found himself laughing as the line went dead with a click. He put the phone down and laid back on his bed. Fuck, why had he been nervous to talk to Adrián? He’d let David get into his head—that’s why. That stupid kiss was in the process of messing everything up. Michael wouldn’t let it.

The rest of Monday went by easily enough. Michael got a good workout in before cooking the dinner he promised his mom he’d make. He made spaghetti and meatballs, which was easy enough. Sam harassed him about the garlic in the sauce (the Frog brothers said they put garlic in everything to ward off vampires and really, Mike, why didn't they do that too?). So, extra garlic added and eyes thoroughly rolled, Michael finished the sauce off and served dinner to his mom, grandpa, and brother while the whole family was, for once, home. It was… nice. The night came and went though, passing like a comet. And, like a comet, Michael burned out for the night; his dinner barely finished, he went upstairs and straight to sleep.

The next day was a blur. He had no commitments for the day, and with no TV? Well, Michael couldn't help but be a little bored. There were worse things out there than boredom, he supposed. Sam was engrossed in more comics so bothering him wouldn't be as fun. He didn't get as riled when he was distracted. Michael worked out for a bit before his fingers itched for his guitar.

He headed up to his room and grabbed his acoustic. He played a couple notes, and before long found his fingers recreating Carmilla’s music. Acoustic offered a very different take on the sound, and he found himself playing and replaying sections, tweaking it to create something out of the song that it certainly wasn’t before.

Carmilla—he'd never seen someone quite like her. What was her personality like? Her demeanor? He invented her in his mind, constructing her life and her dreams out of thin air and errant thoughts. Chances were he’d never see her again. She'd go on performing, and he would… well, he’d wonder.

He stopped playing, running his thumb over his fingertips. He thought about the strange, beautiful woman. Then he thought about David. David, who he swore he heard calling to him. David, who definitely complicated him. Michael threw himself back into the music.

It was around eight thirty when he thought about David again. He wondered what the man was up to. Was he at the boardwalk? Was he down in the hotel? Was he thinking about Michael, too?

He'd go to the boardwalk tonight. Maybe he'd run into the blond, maybe he wouldn't. It was a Tuesday, after all. The boardwalk was probably pretty slow. David seemed to like when there was more going on. Not that he knew David well, he reminded himself.

“Michael.”

Michael's head snapped up. He looked around, searching for David. He was so sure he'd heard the man's voice, but that couldn't be. He was in his room, after all. It was wishful thinking. Or, not wishful. Just his uncertainty playing out in his head.

He left his room then, heading down to the living room where mom and Sam were hanging out. Grandpa was away in his room of dead animals, no doubt working on some horrible new creation. He'd started gifting Sam taxidermied animals. Some looked like regular animals (the owl he'd given Sam a couple days after they arrived) and some were downright weird (like the rabbit with antlers he'd given Sam last Thursday). Michael was glad he was spared from his grandpa’s weird shit. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He walked behind the couch where mom was reading a book and Sam was reading a comic. Mom was always reading these days, and while she pretended it was something classic and serious, Michael was fairly certain it was just a bunch of trashy romance. Truthfully, he was happy for her. If that was what she wanted, good for her.

“I'm heading to the boardwalk,” he said in passing.

Mom looked up at him, setting her book on her lap. “At this hour?”

“The sun set like ten minutes ago.”

She sighed. “I have a night off and you go right back to where I work. I never see you anymore.”

Michael wanted to groan. He bit the sound back and said, “We just had dinner together last night.”

She pressed her lips together into a minute frown and gave him a small wave. He waved back and left, heading straight for his bike. Guilt wasn’t working on him tonight.

The boardwalk wasn't half as dead as Michael anticipated. As he rode up to the western entrance, he was surprised to see the amount of people gathered. His was the first bike there, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He parked and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been hoping to see the guys. To see David.

As he sat thinking about the guys, bikes roared behind him. He turned, but found himself surprised by the riders.

Three black-clad figures got off the bikes, each wearing a full helmet. They were definitely women, and Michael couldn’t help the curiosity rising in him.

The figure in front was flanked by the other two. She took off her helmet and long, permed black hair tumbled out of its confines. It was her. Carmilla. This close she was even more striking. She was lean and imposing, with high cheekbones and a strong roman nose. Her thick, dark brows framed inscrutable dark eyes and her lips had a distinctively pouty turn to them. A mole under her left eye offset the one under the right side of her mouth, and Michael couldn’t help but stare. Her eyes flicked down his form dismissively as the other two women took off their helmets.

“Have we met?”

There it was. That utterly captivating voice that swept Michael up into its ethereal beauty. This time, though, there was an edge of impatience to her tone.

“I saw you perform the other night. Your music is incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.” He was kicking himself even as the words left his mouth. He opened his mouth to amend his statement and introduce himself but her lips quirked in a half-smile that took the air straight out of him.

“Thanks.” The words were flat and lifeless. She strode past him then, long legs carrying her towards the shifting crowd. The other two women followed suit, hips swaying and laughter lingering in the growing space behind them that smelled of vanilla, some sort of flower, and something… surprisingly bitter. Michael shook his head. He’d met scorpions friendlier than her. 

“Looking for something, Michael?”

Heat bloomed in Michael’s gut and he turned—peroxide blond hair and glittering ocean eyes greeted him. David smiled and exhaled a plume of smoke, flicking the ashes of his cigarette onto the concrete. “I promise, she’s nowhere near as interesting as she’d like you to think.”

Michael looked towards her, but she was gone. He turned back towards David and then spotted Marko, Paul, and Dwayne out on the beach behind him. The guys were dancing around a fire before, one by one, stopping to wave at him as they laughed and shoved one another. Michael couldn’t help but smile before he turned back to look at David.

“You know her?”

David shrugged. “I know her as well as I’d like to.” He smiled then, chin dipping down as his eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Now, do you really want to stand there and talk about her or do you want to come have a good time tonight? That’s why you came, right? To see us.” To see me. It was unspoken, but the statement burned in his eyes. Michael couldn’t bring himself to look away. David’s smile became a smirk, and he turned, flicking his cigarette into the sand and heading back down the stairs toward the beach.

The beach was busy tonight. There was one main bonfire, but a series of other smaller fires dotted the dark sand. The guys were circled around one that certainly wasn’t theirs, but the original owners of the fire seemed pleased enough to have them, based on the laughter that carried up the beach. Michael watched as Marko set a bottle down before, somehow, doing a handstand on the soft, uneven sand. Paul shoved him down, and it was Dwayne who laughed first. The whole group of them was laughing then. David turned, halfway between Michael and the fire, and fixed his gaze on Michael. Michael couldn’t see his face, but he was willing to bet he had that smug smirk on his lips.

“Back down the rabbit hole, I guess…” Michael murmured to himself. He followed after David, unable to keep his smile at bay.

Chapter Text

Michael wasn’t sure how long he’d been out at the beach, laughing and drinking and dancing to the bits of music that carried from the boardwalk, when the guitar was handed to him. It was an acoustic guitar, and a pretty one at that. Marko pressed it into his hands, and every member of the group around the fire looked at him, expectant. He’d heard Dwayne mention he could play, and one of the girls had made it her mission to find a guitar. Mission successful, she bit her lip and gave him eyes that would’ve flustered him, were it not for the drink. She definitely had a thing for musicians.

Michael put the strap over his head and adjusted his grip on the guitar, trying not to focus on her. She was a pretty enough girl, he supposed. Long blond hair, a bikini top and tiny shorts that revealed lots of fair, lightly freckled skin, generous curves… The word ‘pretty’ was a disservice, really. Michael picked through the catalogue of songs he knew, then remembered what Star had said about her favorite bands. Maybe this girl liked them too, and he knew a couple Fleetwood Mac songs. He thought for a second before settling on a song.

Michael took a moment, making sure the guitar was in tune, and then he played. His fingers worked almost of their own volition, and he’d had just enough to drink that the words tumbled from his lips.

“ I took my love, I took it down. ”

The girl squealed. She definitely liked this song. Her eyes were bright as she fixed them on him, but he dropped his gaze back to the guitar.

“ I climbed a mountain, and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills, ‘til the landslide brought me down .” He played, losing himself in “Landslide.” 

“ Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?” Michael sang, and he realized as he sang that he’d picked Adrián’s song.

“ Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’ ‘cause I’ve built my life around you.” He thought of playing this with Adrián—listening to him hum and sing and play fragments, bits and pieces of the song that he so rarely put together. But he had put it together. That last night in Phoenix they’d played song after song together, broken up by bouts of drinking and laughing under the moon. But they’d played this , and there was a gravity to it that gave Michael pause. His fingers hesitated a moment and Michael almost stopped playing. But Adrián wasn’t here, and it was just a song.

“ But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting older too.” He looked back up at the blond girl and her friends, and found David there, too. He smiled for a moment, before his eyes dropped back to the guitar and he played the rest of the song.

The small crowd applauded, the girl cheering as she stepped up to him and started chattering about how talented he was and how nice his voice was. Michael handed the guitar off, and she tilted her head, looking at him with wide, pretty eyes.

“I wish I knew how to play.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s not so hard.”

“Would you teach me?”

Michael bit back a smile. That was Sadie’s line, too. She’d heard him playing with Adrián and said almost the same thing. He laughed, then, and shook his head.

“A real teacher could help you more than I could.”

She opened her mouth to say something when David swept up to Michael’s side, silent as a shadow. He smelled like leather and Marlboros, like he always did, and Michael couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn to the man. But David wasn’t looking at him. He looked at the girl, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Hope you don’t mind if I steal him. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” David’s eyes flicked to his, then, and Michael swallowed. David handed him a beer, his smile taking on a slightly more devious twist. Michael took the beer, eyes never shifting from David.

“No, that’s so cool. I’ll see you around,” the girl said. She sounded uncertain, but David didn’t hesitate before he walked back towards the guys, who were busy making their way towards another fire. Michael looked at David’s retreating figure, then at the girl. He shrugged an apology and headed after the man, the smile returning to his lips. He didn’t spare her another thought.

He stayed in David’s orbit after that, as though caught in some kind of gravity. He talked to the guys, laughed with strangers, and time and time again his eyes landed on David. It was getting late though—the moon was high and the fires were dimming but the guys didn’t seem inclined to follow the exodus. No, it was as people left the beach that Paul pulled out a flask. The boys slowed in their revelries, shifting towards Paul, and Michael moved with them, curious.

Paul unscrewed the top and raised the small metal opening to his lips then, and each of the boys kept their eyes trained on the steel flask. Paul tipped his head back and swallowed a mouthful of whatever was in the flask before passing it off to Marko who took it eagerly from him. Marko raised the flask to his lips with the same reverence Paul had. He laughed as he lowered it, stumbling into Paul who caught him easily. The trend continued until the flask reached David, who ran his tongue along his lower lip after lowering the flask from his mouth. His eyes shuttered with the pleased demeanor of a satiated predator and Michael reached out to take the flask. His fingers brushed against the smooth, cold steel before David snatched it back.

David’s eyes were fixed on him, dark and dangerous for a moment before his smile returned. His head tilted slightly as he looked Michael up and down.

“Members only.”

Michael recoiled. “Members of what?”

David looked at the three guys, a smile moving between them as they shared a knowing glance. David’s eyes finally settled back on Michael. “I’ll tell you when you’re a member.”

“Who said I want to join?” Michael retorted. He did, and they both knew it, but the words lay between them nonetheless. David handed the flask off to Paul, a smile growing on his lips. He bit his lower lip then and stepped closer to Michael.

“Sure you don’t.” He laughed, and the guys laughed, and Michael made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Let’s head back to the hotel. If you want a good drink there are plenty there.” Dwayne’s voice cut the tension between them. The normally quiet man’s expression didn’t change as he spoke. David still had a knowing smile on his lips and a cigarette behind his ear, and as much as Michael wanted to be mad at him he found that he just… wasn’t.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

He knew there was no way in hell he should be on his bike in this state. He was a cigarette, half a joint, and three beers in. His mother would kill him if she knew. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Stay here? He looked over at his bike, still at the entrance to the boardwalk.

“You’ve been drinking a lot, Michael. Why don’t you ride with me?”

Thoughts invaded his mind then: riding behind David, his chest flush against the man’s strong back. He knew exactly what he smelled like. Tasted like… He shook those thoughts aside.

“Nah, I think I'm alright.” And really, he felt alright after those sobering thoughts. David eyed him carefully but nodded before walking over to where his bike lay in the sand and lifting it like it weighed nothing. “We’ll wait for you, then.” Michael swallowed, looking anywhere but at David’s black-clad arms. Michael shook his head.

“No, really. You guys go on ahead. I'll meet you at the hotel.”

David paused for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” He turned towards the guys who were also picking up their bikes and smoothly mounted his. Michael turned back towards the stairs just as the bikes roared to life. He ran across the sand to get to his bike as the boys shot off into the night. He laughed at the sound, turning to watch them shoot down the beach. So what if his eyes lingered on peroxide blond hair? Michael didn't let himself worry about it.

Michael reached the hotel not long after the guys, but already the interior was alight with dancing flames and loud music. He climbed down into the hotel and one after the other the guys began shouting at him.

“Mikey!” Paul said.

“There he is!”

“You made it!”

Dwayne handed over a bottle of… Michael examined it in the low light. Rum, tonight. He wasn't  upset about that. It was a rich brown color, swirling in the bottle as he held it. He popped the stopper out of the bottle and took a long swig, that familiar burn racing down his throat.

They settled into what Michael was learning was a pattern. Marko and Paul danced around the fire, drinking and laughing, as Dwayne smoked and tossed in quips and barbs. David, though, kept his eyes trained on Michael. He crossed the space between them, drink in hand, and tilted his head.
“Why that song?”

Michael was confused for a moment before he realized David was referring to the song he played. “Just a song I like.”

“Didn’t play it like it was ‘just a song you like.’”

“And how did I play it?”

David eyed him, expression pensive. “You played it like you’re used to someone playing it with you.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair and sipped his drink. His thoughts drifted to Adrián  again, and the night they’d spent out under the moon. His last night in Phoenix. He shrugged. “It’s my friend’s song, really. His favorite. I guess I usually play it with him.”

David nodded. “Tell me about him.”

“My friend?”

David smiled. “Yeah. Why not?”

And Michael, much as he wanted to, couldn’t think of a single reason. Why wouldn’t he want to talk about his best friend? But something about talking about Adrián to David felt… strange. Wrong. Like talking about an ex to a new girlfriend. Only, Adrián wasn’t an ex and David very much wasn’t a girlfriend. He was about to say something when he heard a sound over the music.

It had to be past midnight. It was probably close to one, if he had to guess. More importantly, they were in the middle of nowhere. Finally, and most importantly, all four guys were present and accounted for. So, it was surprising as hell when footsteps echoed from the stairs. Not the hole in the ceiling they all usually climbed down through—the sound was coming from the stairs, where they left from.

The guys fell silent and seemed to move as one. David strode toward the stairs as the other guys fell into step behind him. Michael didn’t move but Marko stepped in close to him.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked. Marko didn't respond, but Michael didn't miss the look on his face; there was a cold and calculating expression that seemed at odds with his youthful appearance. He'd seen that look in his dad's eye more often than any of his friends—there was some kind of danger Marko wasn't willing to discuss. Michael fixed his gaze on the stairs and saw black boots begin to descend.

The figure wore black combat boots, black leather pants, and a black leather jacket. Then, that permed black hair came into view. Marko stepped in front of Michael then, in an almost protective gesture. Why, Michael couldn't fathom. What the hell would Carmilla do? Sing at him? The same two women from before followed her now. The blond and brunette were dressed similarly to Carmilla, but the blond's thick, curly hair was up in a ponytail and the brunette’s was pin straight. He couldn't make their features out in this light, and he hadn't paid attention earlier.

The women walked slowly, an exaggerated sway to Carmilla’s hips as she teased her hair with the fingers of her right hand. Her brown eyes flashed in the firelight as they flicked straight over to David. Something in Michael’s chest caught for a moment. The look on her face was paralyzing, sending a chill straight down his spine.

“David, my old friend.” She stepped onto the uneven linoleum, sauntering towards him.

“What do you want, Carmilla?” His voice was colder than Michael had ever heard it. He couldn't see David's face, but Michael imagined those warm blue eyes were like ice.

“Tsk tsk. Is that any way to greet your sister?”

“Sister? As if,” Paul said acerbically.

David shot Paul a look. Paul crossed his arms but fell silent.

“I'll say it again. What do you want?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes, stepping closer to David. With fewer than five feet between the two, there was an almost physical tension visible. “You and I agreed that we'd discuss hunting privileges like civilized…” She trailed off, eyes searching the room before landing on Michael. “Adults.” She smiled. “David. You brought a snack.” Her eyes flashed dimly in the low light.

Dwayne and Paul advanced on Carmilla, but David held up a hand to stop them. “He's none of your concern.”

She smiled, head tilting. “Isn't he?”

“Leave. We can talk some other time.”

She pouted. “So testy.” She looked at Michael again and David stepped between them, cutting off her line of sight. What the hell was going on?

“Don't stray far. More things than dogs bite in this city, sweet thing.” She couldn’t see him, but Michael knew she was speaking to him. She turned on her heel, permed black hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Let's go, girls.” The trio went right back up the stairs, vanishing into the night.

David let out a breath. Marko moved quickly to David's side and within seconds Paul and Dwayne followed suit. The four stood together, speaking softly. After a quick discussion, Paul and Dwayne went after the women, while David left the hotel through the hole in the ceiling. Marko turned back towards Michael, an apologetic expression on his face.

“What the hell is going on?” Michael couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. “Thought you guys weren’t a gang.”

Marko’s nose scrunched. “We aren’t exactly a gang? I mean, we don’t invite people to join, usually, we don’t commit crimes just for the hell of it, usually, and we don’t… what else do gangs do? Carry knives? Guns? We don’t do that. Usually.”

Michael wanted to shake the shorter guy. “Usually? Shit, I’ve accidentally joined a gang.”

Marko shook his head. “Michael, you’re not thinking straight. When have we asked you to commit a crime? Hell, aside from underage drinking, when have you seen us commit a crime?”

He thought about it for a moment. He supposed that, really, they hadn’t. Any time they stole liquor one of the guys did it. He’d never seen them with guns or knives or any other weapon. The worst thing they did was… well, yeah. Underage drinking, he supposed. That wasn’t really gang behavior, right?

Paul and Dwayne ran back down the stairs into the hotel. “They’re gone. We’re clear.”

“Who the hell were they? I thought they were just some band.”

Paul and Marko exchanged a look before frowning. “They are. They’re the Queens of the Damned, a band from L.A. that’s been checking out the area. They visit from time to time, but they’re thinking about putting down roots here.” Dwayne explained slowly. He was quiet, but his voice was smooth and clear.

“Why does that have anything to do with you?”

They exchanged another glance. “We’ll let David explain that,” Paul said finally. “He asked us not to tell you too much about it.”

“And I’ll ask, Michael, that you respect that. I’ll tell you more if it becomes relevant. Right now it’s not your problem.” David’s voice sent a shiver down Michael’s spine. He turned, eyes on the blond. He appeared calm now, but there was a set to his shoulders that suggested otherwise. The guys turned to face him as he dropped down onto the uneven floor. “For now, let's salvage the night.”

Michael knew he was being distracted. Knew answers were being kept from him. Part of him wanted to confront David about it, but instead he forced a smile and as he did, some of the tension went out of David. That almost made up for the lies.

Dwayne turned on the stereo then and music blared through the room, drowning Michael in noise. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and allowed himself to smile—really smile—for the first time since Carmilla had entered the hotel. He raised his bottle of rum to his lips as the other guys did the same with their various drinks. A couple of minutes passed as the tension slowly dwindled in the room.

“Michael,” Dwayne said, walking over to him. “Smoke with me?” He held out a cigarette and a lighter. Michael accepted it without hesitation. Dwayne walked towards the far side of the room, leaving Michael to follow. He did.

“We haven't really gotten to talk, have we?”

Michael considered this. He'd spoken with David the most and usually just hung out with the other guys as a group. Had he ever spoken to Dwayne one-on-one? He wasn't sure.

“You're right. Do you have something in mind?”

Dwayne's lip twitched in a faint mockery of a smile. “I'm interested to hear more about Phoenix, if you're up for it.”

Michael grinned. “Which part? My life there or the shit I got into on nights like these?”

“The shit, all the way.” This time Dwayne did smile. There was a quiet warmth to the man, and he was a good listener as Michael told him about almost getting arrested for underage drinking. He and Adrián had bolted, running from the cops for what felt like an hour. Adrián had been beyond upset that time, but Michael couldn't help but laugh as he told the story. It felt good, he realized. Talking about Adrián made him feel something less than the eleven hours away he was. Even so, his eyes slid over to David, who was laughing with Paul and Marko. Michael refocused on the conversation at hand as Dwayne launched into a story about his first time getting kicked off the boardwalk, which had Michael in tears laughing. They swapped stories after that, drinking all the while.

“We've been raising hell in Santa Carla for a long time,” Dwayne said fondly. “But David’s never taken to anyone quite the way he’s taken to you.”

Michael felt himself flush. “How long have you been here?” He asked, fighting to ignore what Dwayne said about David. Dwayne’s eyes held a gleam that promised he knew exactly how Michael felt about David. He opened his mouth to respond when Marko cut him off.

“Michael! Come shotgun this beer with us!” He held up a can and Paul did the same beside him.

Michael looked back towards Dwayne who shooed him away. “Go! I've had you over here for long enough.”

Michael nodded appreciatively and got up on only mildly wobbly legs. He walked towards Marko and Paul, passing David as he went. David was on his way to take Michael's place talking to Dwayne.

Marko and Paul had clearly been at it awhile. A half dozen cans littered the floor around them. Their eyes had a haze to them, but their laughter promised they'd be at it a while longer. Marko handed Michael a beer and a key.

“To the Lost Boys!” he shouted before tilting his can and punching a hole in it. He popped the tab as he raised it to his lips and he was off. Michael followed suit as fast as he could and the unofficial race began.

It was shit beer. Michael realized that immediately, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He got through the first half before tilting it a little higher and then he was almost done. A few more gulps and he crushed the empty can, beating Paul by only seconds.  They'd both beat Marko by a mile, and they laughed like it. The world, however, had begun to spin.

“I need to…” he didn't finish his thought. Michael collapsed to the ground, his legs giving out. He’d been down perhaps a second before strong hands lifted him, picking him up like he weighed nothing. A few moments later found him sitting on a run-down bed, staring into ocean blue eyes. He realized exactly whose hands were on him and groaned. David paused what he was doing, eyeing Michael.

“You alright, Michael?”

“Better now,” Michael mumbled. He blushed as he realized what he’d said. “I mean, sitting down helps.” David smiled before continuing to look Michael over.

Michael realized then that at some point his gaze had shifted down to fix on David’s mouth. And really, it was a good mouth. He knew exactly what it felt like pressed against his own and right now, he wanted nothing more than to feel that again.

David must've caught the longing in his eyes because then there he was, nose-to-nose with Michael as his fingers tangled in Michael’s hair. The smell of ocean air and Marlboros consumed him, drawing him into a haze of something he couldn’t name. He shut his eyes, hands sliding up David’s chest to land on his shoulders. What would it be like touching him without all those clothes in the way?

“Please,” Michael whined. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel ashamed of how pathetic he sounded. He felt David move against him and instead of the kiss he expected, he felt David’s breath on his ear.

“Beg like that when you're sober, and I'll consider it.”

Michael couldn't breathe. David’s voice was low and rough and Michael knew right then that he was completely and utterly fucked. He moaned at the feeling of the blond’s chest pressed against his own and his hips bucked up against David of their own volition. But then, as quickly as he’d come close, David pulled away—leaving Michael cold and aching. He opened his eyes, and once again found the world spinning. A ring of gold burned in David’s blue eyes, the colors clashing. Michael wanted to drown in those eyes.

David gently pushed him down until his back hit the mattress, and Michael couldn't help the way his eyes shut. David’s words echoed in his head, replaying over and over but even that distraction couldn’t stop Michael from falling asleep. 

Chapter Text

Michael woke up to light in his eyes. He blinked, fighting a losing battle against a headache. How much did he have to drink last night? As the world came into focus, he realized several things. One, he wasn’t in his bed. Two, he was still at the hotel. Three, the guys weren’t anywhere to be found.

He stood on shaky legs and started heading towards the stairs. There’s no way he was climbing through the hole in the ceiling in this state. He groaned as he began the ascent, still blinking against the light. As he went up the stairs, he thought back to last night. To their time on the beach, that weird shit with Carmilla, talking with Dwayne, and then… falling. David picking him up and carrying him to bed. The words David whispered into his ear. A shiver shot down Michael’s spine and he ran a hand through his hair, pausing to look back into the hotel. Fuck, he was so screwed.

He wasn’t gay. He just liked to kiss David when he got drunk. That didn’t make him gay, right? Another thought broke that train: he had an interview to be at. He ran the rest of the way up the stairs and was relieved to see that the sun was still low over the eastern horizon. It couldn’t be later than eight. He hurried to his bike and threw his leg over before starting it up and racing away from the coast, straight back towards the sunrise. 

“Michael Emerson, where have you been?” His mother walked out onto the porch, fuming as he rode up. “You don’t come home, you don’t call—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting her tirade. “I had a little too much to drink and crashed with a friend.”

“A friend? We’ve been in this city three weeks and you’re already crashing with ‘friends?’ I don’t believe this!”

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a job interview.” He turned off the bike, setting the kickstand before walking past his mother. She seemed to give up because she didn’t say anything else as he walked away.

He took a quick shower which helped relieve his headache and then pulled on some fresh clothes. He yawned as he looked himself over in the mirror before looking at the clock. It was nearly ten, which meant it was past time to go. He avoided his mother on the way out, but gave Sam a quick ‘good morning.’ It felt like he hadn't spent time with the kid in ages, and he promised himself he'd take Sam to the boardwalk during the day some time soon.

It was nearly 10:30 by the time he made it to the shop. He caught Star just as she was unlocking the door.

“Star!” He called. She opened the door and smiled.

“You made it!”

“Wouldn't miss it.”

“Well, come on then.”

He walked into the shop, taking it in more thoroughly than last time. It was a nice store, if he was being honest. On the left side of the store there were posters and band merch, the middle seemed largely to be rows and rows of vinyls and cassettes, but the whole back wall and right side of the shop was filled with guitars and anything one might need to play one. Picks, straps, amps, tuners, the works. Michael’s eyes drifted to that cherry red Gibson again, but he pulled his eyes from it as a woman walked out of a door in the back right corner of the shop.

“Michael?” She asked. He nodded. She was short, but she definitely knew how to take up space. She wore a red button down and jeans, and her hair was up in a tight bun. She walked quickly towards him, hand extended as she got close. He shook her hand and felt those familiar callouses which he too had. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jen.”

“You too. Thanks. I mean, for ah, taking the time to talk to me.”

She smiled, and there was a warmth about her. She looked to be in her late thirties, and while she was pretty Michael got the distinct impression that she didn’t care a lick whether he, or maybe any man, thought that. 

She nodded. “So, you're interested in working here. Star tells me you play… How familiar are you with what we carry? You got any experience with a job like this?”

Michael looked around the store. “I’ve got experience with acoustic, electric, and bass guitars, I know a lot of different music, I’ve got a pretty good understanding of amps and know a lot of the major ones on the market and what makes ‘em good or bad. But I’ve never worked a job like this.” He spoke slowly, thinking through each piece. Jen didn't so much as bat an eye. The rest of the interview was just as casual, and less than twenty minutes later he found himself with a job that started next Tuesday.

“I'll be showing you the ropes,” Star said after Jen headed back into the back of the shop. “I’m glad to work with you,” she said, and Michael knew she meant it. “You free after I'm off work? Gabe and the guys are rehearsing tonight. They’re opening for Carmilla’s band Saturday night.”

Flashes of last night came back to him. Carmilla's strange warning… or had it been a threat? He wasn't sure what to make of her, but he knew she made him nervous.

“Yeah, sure.” He said finally. “Sounds great.”

Star nodded. “I'm off at five. Meet me in front of the shop.”

Michael said he would and offered a quick goodbye before heading out. As he walked through the boardwalk, though, he realized he was hardly even thinking about the new job and was, instead, looking for blond hair and blue eyes. He thought about that. Thought about going home and calling Adrián and getting the hell away from Santa Carla for a few days. Getting the hell away from David. What was wrong with him? He drank around David and couldn’t talk about Adrián, couldn’t keep his hands off the man, couldn’t keep from wanting to kiss him. What had gotten into him last night? Michael ran a hand through his hair, frustration building.

Yeah, he was going back to Phoenix. He'd crash with Adrián and talk everything through. Adrián would make it make sense. He always did. Except… could he talk to Adrián about David? He took a quick breath and decided: he’d always talked to Adrián about, well, everything. This wasn’t going to be the exception.

Mind made up, he headed back to the house. He rode fast, weaving around the few cars on the road. There was a kind of desperation brewing within him. A nervous energy he wasn't sure what to do with. It was probably David's fault.

“Hello?”

Michael could have sighed with relief at hearing Adrián’s voice on the line. “Hey.”

“Michael! What's good, hermano ?”

Nothing seemed good, but he tried to stay positive. “I got a job. Start next week. I'm working at a music store with Star.”

“Suits you. Pay good?”

“Not bad. Hey, I was wondering. You mind if I crash with you for a few days?”

“Of course. But only if you tell me what you're running from.”

Adrián saw right through him, just as he always did. Michael shut his eyes, sucking in a breath. He exhaled slowly, trying to find the words.

“Is it those guys? They bothering you?”

God, no. It was just the opposite, really. He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. “I just need some space. There's a lot going on here. I'll tell you more in person.”

Adrián was silent for a long moment. “Alright. When you coming?”

“Tomorrow?”

Adrián's voice grew muffled as he said something away from the phone. A few seconds later he said, “yeah, that works. Just make sure you get in before ten.”

“Not a problem. Just gotta be back by Saturday night”

“Excellent. I'll get us some alcohol and you can tell me all about these guys.”

The rest of the call Michael found his mind wandering. Worse, it kept wandering back to last night. To David. What the hell had he been thinking? He'd whined like some lost puppy. Worse, he wasn't sure what he'd been whining for. His memory was a little hazy, but he remembered those ocean eyes and David's hands on him. When he hung up the phone he just lay down, staring at the ceiling.

Beg like that when you're sober, and I'll consider it. The words played in his head over and over again. David could have done anything he’d wanted to Michael. But, he hadn't. He'd put him to bed.

“Mike.”

Michael sat up. Sam stood in the doorway, a comic in his hand. He took in Michael's expression and his nose scrunched. “You alright?”

Michael wiped the anxiety from his face and rolled his eyes. “Great. What do you want?”

“I finished my comic for like, the third time. Any chance you'll take me back to the shop?”

Michael hesitated. He should spend time with Sam. But… he looked over at the clock. It was nearly one. He shook his head.

“No, Sam. I can’t today. How about we go Sunday?”

“Sunday? Why not tomorrow?”

“I’m going back to Phoenix.”

Sam stared at him, and something like anger flitted across his face. “Right. And let me guess, I can’t go with you there, either.”

Michael winced. He hadn’t even considered bringing Sam. Sam smiled ruefully and turned on his heel, closing the door hard behind him as he walked away. Michael collapsed backward, hands coming up to cover his face. Fuck.

He returned to the boardwalk at five, making his way to the shop. He took his time, avoiding the west entrance and trying to keep David out of his head. It was a fruitless endeavor. He walked to the shop and leaned against it, fighting to keep from scanning the crowd. He wouldn’t look for David. He wasn’t gonna do it.

“Hey.”

Michael stood up straight, turning to face Star. She was wearing dark brown pants and a fitted green shirt today and she looked good. Michael was learning that Star always looked good.

“Hey. So, where does Gabe rehearse?”

She smiled, nose scrunching. “Straight to business, then.” He blushed but she kept talking. “South side of town. About fifteen minutes from here. Mind if we take your bike? I don't want to deal with finding my car in the mess they call a parking lot.”

“No problem. Just direct me.”

He and Star started walking towards his bike, but they didn’t get far before she spoke up.

“You okay, Michael? You seem a little off.”

“Yeah, no. I'm good. I just…” he trailed off. He wanted to tell her for some reason. She was just one of those people that made you want to confide in them. “Remember those guys you saw the other night? Who stopped me to talk?” She nodded. Michael considered how to proceed. No way would he tell the whole truth. “I've been with them on and off for a few nights, and things are just complicated.”

Her brow furrowed. “Complicated how?”

Wasn't that the million dollar question? Michael wasn't sure how to explain. Wasn't even sure, himself, what the complications were. Other than him. David.

“Is it that blond guy? Carmilla said he's bad news.”

“That's not true.” His tone was sharp and Star looked taken aback. He winced at the look on her face. “I mean, he's been a good friend to me.” He wasn't sure why he said it. The words just tumbled out.

“Michael, good friends don't make you feel like this.”

How did David make him feel? Michael decided he didn't want to think about it.

“I can't explain. But he's not ‘bad news.’”

Star just nodded. They reached Michael's bike then and Michael handed her the helmet he kept clipped to the back. It was usually for Sam, but giving it to her seemed the right thing to do.

He threw his leg over the bike before helping her onto it. She clipped the buckle under her chin and then wrapped her arms around his waist. She gave him the directions and then they were off, riding through the city to get to Gabe.

They pulled up to a house and Michael found himself taken aback. Gabe had a house? Maybe it wasn't his. But then again, maybe it was.

Star hopped off the bike and clipped the helmet back into place. She walked straight up to the house and opened the door, looking back patiently for Michael to follow. He did so, eyeing the small house. It was a little one-story affair, with beige siding, a dark green door, and dark green shutters. The small lawn was well-kept, and there was a small flower bed with… some kind of pink flower. He hurried after Star and walked into the house.

The inside matched the outside to a tee. Simple decor, cream colored walls with dark green accents, and a mix of woods for the furniture. It was nice.

“Shoes off,” Star ordered him. He took his shoes off and set them by the door before walking further into the house. “This way,” Star said, guiding him. They went towards the back right corner of the house and Michael was shocked to see a full music room. There were a variety of instruments set up and others in cases propped against the wall. The room itself was blue with soundproof walls, and there was a small, black leather couch and a couple chairs around the far side of the room. Gabe was there alone, tuning an electric guitar.

“Hey,” Gabe said, waving to Michael and Star. “Good to see you again, Michael.”

Michael determined, then, that Gabe and Star were the most genuine people he knew. Aside from Adrián, of course. But Gabe’s smile promised that he meant it, and Michael felt almost uncertain of how to reply. Star beat him to it.

“Figured you'd be playing by now. Where are the guys?”

“Cole's got some kind of stomach bug. Can't play. We're practicing tomorrow, instead.” He turned to Michael. “You're welcome to stay and hang out though. I'd love to get to know Adrián's best friend better.” He set the guitar down. It was an Ibanez RG Series, a stunning black guitar with sharp points paired with an electric blue strap. It was pretty, and it took a moment for Michael to pull his eyes away. That was an expensive guitar, and a damn nice sounding one.

“Yeah, sure,” he said finally.

Star walked over to Gabe and kissed him on the cheek before sitting down on one end of the couch. Gabe pulled up a chair and sat near Star as Michael sat on the other end of the couch.

“Star told me you play. You prefer acoustic, electric, or bass?”

“Electric, usually. I’ve played all three, and bass is fun, but I tend towards rhythm or lead guitar. You’re a drummer, right?”
He nodded, smiling. “Yeah.” He gestured towards the guitar. “I used to play a little, but drums are more my thing. This is one of Cole’s guitars.”

“It’s pretty.” Michael said.

Gabe looked over at the guitar. “It is.” He smiled, then, glancing over to Star before his gaze landed back on Michael. “Star’s a bassist. You wanna play a little? Would do me some good to practice tonight, even without the guys.”

Michael paused. Why the hell not? He nodded.

“Yeah, sure. What do you like to play?”

Gabe shrugged. “A little of everything, really. My band plays some covers, some original music you definitely don’t know…” He paused. “You know any Metallica?”

Michael just smiled.

Playing with Gabe was nothing like playing with Adrián. They were very different in a musical sense. Adrián played acoustic and bass guitar, favoring bass. Gabe was a drummer. Gabe liked hard rock and metal, Adrián liked soft rock and alternative. Playing with Star, though? Star, too, favored a slightly softer sound and so while they started at Metallica, it quickly devolved into a jam session where they played off each other’s preferences. After a while Gabe dropped out, hanging out on the couch and watching Star and Michael play together.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but Michael realized he’d drifted into the same territory that Carmilla occupied. The guitar riffs were slower, a whining melody that was almost mournful in its wail. Star stopped abruptly, then, eyes fixed on Michael.

“I didn’t realize you listened to them that much. Did you hear their stuff in Phoenix?”

Michael shrugged. “No. Just liked them the other night.”

Star blinked. “You just. What? Heard them play and picked up the style by listening?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair, giving his fingers a break from pressing on the strings. “I mean. Kind of. I can’t play their songs, but I can mess around in that style a bit.”

“A bit? Michael, that riff you just played was wonderful.” There was a tinge of something in her tone. Bitterness? Jealousy? “I’m playing with them Saturday night. Their bassist is headed back to L.A. for the weekend, some family emergency, and Carmilla asked me to step in.”

“Cool. I mean, that’s great,” Michael said. He found that he meant it, too. Carmilla was… strange and unsettling but she was also a talented musician. Her whole band was. Anyone in Santa Carla would be lucky to play with them.

She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks.” She set her guitar down on a stand and sat beside Gabe. Michael followed suit, putting the guitar down and sitting in one of the chairs. He wanted to tell Star not to play. She had every reason to want to, and Michael could only think of one reason for her not to: David didn’t like her. They must’ve read the expression on Michael’s face, because Gabe’s brow furrowed.

“Star told me you’re hanging out with David’s group.”
“Yeah, I am.” Michael spoke slowly. He had a sinking suspicion that Gabe was about to try and convince him not to.

“Carmilla said to steer clear of him. That he’s nothing but trouble.”

Michael scoffed. “She’s the one who showed up uninvited. David’s not the one to worry about.”

Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know him like you do, but I know he’s been kicked off the boardwalk more times than I can count, and he tends to stir up trouble wherever he goes. Him and that gang of his.”

“They’re not a gang.”

Gabe held up his hands. “Apologies, I didn’t mean ‘gang’ literally.”

Michael wanted to leave, then. Genuine people or no, Carmilla had them wrapped around her finger.

“Have you heard from Adrián recently?” Gabe said, attempting to change the subject. Michael let him.

“Yeah. I’m going back to Phoenix tomorrow to spend some time with him.”

Gabe smiled, relaxing somewhat. “That’s cool. How long you going to be out there? Hopefully not through Saturday.”

Michael shrugged. “Not sure. But, I can try and get back that night.”

This time Star’s smile was genuine. “I hope to see you there.”

Chapter Text

It was hardly dawn when Michael packed grandpa’s car. The old man had agreed to let Michael drive it to Phoenix, as there was no way he was making the trip on his bike. It was a good eleven hours by car and Michael was already dreading it. Dreading it, but he also couldn’t help but be excited. By eight tonight he’d be back with Adrián. He'd already called and given him an update on when he'd get there. Then? Well, then he'd be back in Phoenix’s dry heat and no doubt out under the stars in the desert.

He wasn’t bringing much, all things considered. A few days worth of clothes, a toothbrush, a few other essentials, and his acoustic guitar. If he forgot something, Adrián’d no doubt lend him something that’d work. He headed back inside to say his goodbyes.

Sam was sitting on his bed in his room, bundled under a blanket and, predictably, reading a comic. He hardly looked up when Michael walked in.

“I’m heading out, Sammy.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied without looking up.

“I’ll be gone a few days.”

“Yup.”

Something like unease flickered in Michael’s chest. Was Sam still mad at him?

“You alright?”

Sam finally looked up. “I don’t know why you’re asking, Mike. You’re barely around and when you are, you either give attitude or ignore mom and me.”

Guilt replaced the unease.

“I promise, Sam. I’ll spend time with you as soon as I’m back.”

“Yeah. Have fun in Phoenix.” His tone was dismissive. Sam looked back down at his comic, and Michael walked out of the room. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He and Sam rarely fought, which made this really suck. But Michael would make it up to the kid; he vowed it quietly to himself.

He hurriedly said goodbye to his mother after that and then waved a goodbye to his grandpa. The old man hardly spared him a glance, deeply engrossed in his work. That was definitely for the best. Michael wanted nothing less than he wanted another lecture about taking care of the car. He grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on before heading out to the car and getting in. He started it up and looked out at the road. Eleven hours was all that stood between him and Adrián. Between him and home. He shifted the car into gear.

The sun was low in the sky when Michael pulled into Adrián’s driveway. His back was stiff, his butt was numb, and his shoulders felt like stone, but damn if it all didn’t vanish the second he saw that house. It was a large-ish stucco house with a second floor balcony looking out towards the front. The door was a deep brown and the windows to the left of it were stained glass. The stony yard in front of the house was smooth and even, with the little pebbles pushed into a reasonably flat surface. Here and there a few cacti poked up—just little things with a few blooms each. Adrián wasn’t rich, but he certainly wasn’t poor, either.

Michael turned off the car, grabbing his bag and getting out before heading towards the door. He didn’t make it before the door opened. Adrián stood in the doorway wearing jeans and a deep blue button down shirt. He smiled a bright, crooked grin and opened his arms.

“Mike!”

“Adrián,” Michael said back, sucking in a quick breath. Fuck, it was good to see him. He hurried over to Adrián and wrapped him in a tight hug, feeling his fears vanish in the face of seeing his friend. There wasn’t much that time with Adrián didn’t seem to fix. They finally broke apart, with Adrián grabbing his shoulders and looking him over.

“You look like shit. Want some food?”

“Please.”

Adrián just smiled and stepped back, holding open the door for Michael to head inside.

“Michael!” Adrián’s mother called, waving at him from the kitchen. “Adrián said you’d be hungry, I have some food ready for you. I’m just heating it up now.”

Michael’s mouth watered then, the reaction immediate. Elisa was one hell of a cook. He’d missed that, because his own mother was little more than average. He walked straight back to the guest room and set his bag down before heading to the kitchen.

“Thank you for letting me stay for a few days,” he said. She handed him a steaming plate of tamales and he bit back an impolite noise. “And for the food.” She smiled.

“My son hasn’t stopped talking about you since you left, niño .”

“Thanks, mom.” Adrián said, walking into the room after locking the door. “I’m sure Michael has come all this way to hear about me missing my best friend.”

Michael smiled. The sass, he’d definitely missed. He headed to the dining room, smile still firmly on his lips. Adrián and his mother continued to go back and forth, teasing one another as Michael dug into his food. He nearly scalded his mouth, but that didn’t slow him down in the slightest. Damn, if it wasn’t phenomenal. All too soon he found himself scraping the plate with his fork, trying to get every little bit of tamale. He leaned back with a sigh, turning towards the window and looking out at the setting sun.

“Done? Good. That means we can head out.”

Michael picked up his plate as Adrián reached out to take it. Michael took it into the kitchen, rinsing it in the sink before putting it into the dishwasher. Elisa harassed Adrián in Spanish about letting his guest do the dishes in a conversation Michael only half-understood. Eventually Adrián held up his hands.

“ Lo siento, mamá . Michael and I are headed out now, though.”

Elisa nodded. “Alright. Stay safe and have fun.” She turned to Michael. “I’ll see you in the morning, niño .” Michael waved at her and then they were right back out the door. They passed by Michael’s grandpa’s car completely, only stopping so Michael could grab his guitar, and headed straight for Adrián’s battered old pickup truck. The red truck had seen better days, but it was a reliable car. Adrián made sure of that, himself. The moon was just beginning to rise, and for a moment Michael thought about the guys. He’d skipped out on seeing them last night, instead staying in and going to bed early. He thought about David… David, whom he hadn’t spoken to since their conversation two nights ago.

Beg like that when you’re sober, and I’ll consider it. The words echoed in his head, and he found himself short of breath. He shut his eyes for a quick moment, composing himself. Adrián opened the door to his truck, getting in. The creaking of the door yanked Michael back into the present and he followed suit, getting into the passenger side.

“Usual spot tonight?”

Michael just nodded, still trying to find his voice. All he could feel were David’s hands on him. David. David, David, David. The man consumed Michael’s thoughts in the worst way. In the best way. In every way, really.

“You seem out of it. You good?”

“Yeah. Long drive,” Michael said quickly. Adrián nodded and started the truck. After a moment he shifted into gear and then they were off, heading through the streets of Phoenix and out towards the empty expanse of the desert.

They were quiet on the drive, as opposed to laughing and joking as they usually did. Michael had so much to tell him, but so little to say. How could he talk about Santa Carla without talking about David? Without talking about the feelings rising in his chest and consuming him? He sucked in a quick breath, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Another few minutes found them pulling off the road and into the desert. They stopped shortly after, out in the empty expanse. They’d rounded the large curve of a mountain, leaving them in the inky darkness that was only broken by the sickly light of the crescent moon and the glittering pinpricks of the stars.

Adrián turned off the truck and got out; Michael followed suit, getting out of the truck. Before he shut the door Adrián pulled a couple bottles out from under his seat. A wry smile twisted Michael’s lips.

“Beer?” He asked.

“You know it.”

Michael laughed at that, and then watched as Adrián popped the cap and took a swig. He swallowed, then handed the second bottle to Michael. Michael opened his bottle and took a long swallow before walking to the back of the truck. Adrián climbed up into the bed, sitting down and leaning against the cool metal of the cabin. Michael followed suit, and suddenly they were back where they always were: away from the rest of the world, but with one another. Except, there was another presence with them, heavy and unshakable: David.

“You can talk to me about anything, Mike.” Adrián said, finally breaking the silence. Michael took another swig of beer.

“There’s so much to say.”

“But something in particular is weighing on you.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“To me? Absolutely.”

Michael tipped his head back, staring up at the stars. “You’re right.”

“Usually am.”

“I met someone.”

“Ah, there it is. She causing you problems?”

Michael sighed. “Even more than usual.”

“What’s the issue?” There was no judgment in that voice, only patient curiosity.

“I think I need more to drink before I can get into it.”

“Well, we’ve got more bottles and a whole night.” He smiled, and Michael took a moment to look, really look, at him. Adrián had always been the more attractive of the two of them. It wasn’t something they’d ever discussed, and it wasn’t exactly a major hit to Michael’s self-esteem, but at times like tonight when he looked at Adrián he remembered how incredibly attractive he was. But he realized, then, as he took another swig of shitty tequila sitting under the moon with Adrián, that for the first time he would rather be looking into blue eyes. Michael’s eyes traveled down to his lips, and as he inhaled he missed the smell of whiskey and Marlboros. Even here, he couldn’t escape David. Was he really… Could he be… He looked up at the moon.

He felt like he was choking. Like the weight of every slur his father had said was pressing down on him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He blinked, and Adrián put a hand on his shoulder. Michael looked at him. Into those beautiful, soulful brown eyes he wished were blue.

“I think I’m gay.” The words fell out in a rushed whisper. Adrián didn’t so much as flinch. His grip on Michael’s shoulder tightened slightly, and his full lips curved into a wider smile.

“Took you long enough to realize.”

Michael blinked. He blinked again. Adrián’s smile didn’t so much as waver. Michael shook his head and took a long swig of shitty beer. Adrián grabbed his own bottle and took a drink. Michael’s head reeled. “You knew?”

“Hell, I thought you knew and were just private about it. I only realized you didn’t the other day on the phone.”

“What do you mean?”

Adrián laughed, then. “Michael, you described the guy’s eyes. Twice. And then said he was a… I think your exact words were, ‘good friend.’”

“Oh my fucking god.” Michael groaned, head falling into his hands. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m an idiot.” He turned back to Adrián then. “You don’t think he knows, do you?”

Adrián shrugged then. “Does he act like he knows?”

Beg like that when you’re sober and I’ll consider it. A shiver ran down Michael’s spine and he realized that maybe David knew more about what turned Michael on than he did.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

“I’m going to assume that means that he knows.”

“He definitely knows.”

“Have you acted on it?”

“I mean.” Michael blushed then, heat flooding his face. “We’ve kissed.”

Adrián laughed, then. “And how was it?”

Michael’s face was so flushed his ears were red. “Adrián, he’s perfect.”

“Is he perfect just because he’s the first guy you’ve kissed?”

Michael wanted to be offended by the question, but really. How could he be? He’d known David for… maybe two weeks? And in that time he’d nearly fallen off a cliff, punched the man, they’d fought, they’d kissed, and Michael had begged for more. David was secretive, aloof, he drank and he smoked like a man who was dying, and Michael couldn’t help but feel unrelentingly caught in his web.

“He’s an asshole. I couldn’t stand him when I met him, and I usually want to be mad at him, but everything draws me to him.”

“Michael, have you ever had feelings for me?”
Michael’s head reeled. Adrián? Feelings? The guy was his best friend. Hell no he hadn’t—well… he’d thought about kissing the guy. But just out of curiosity. Just to see what it was like. The girls said he was a good kisser, and was it so wrong for Michael to want to find out?

Adrián’s hand came up and cupped his chin. He pulled Michael’s head to face his, and Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, eyes coming to rest on Adrián’s lips. His eyes flicked back up to Adrián’s eyes and he found them intently fixed on his.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Michael knew he should say no. He shouldn’t kiss his best friend, this was definitely wrong. The guy had never done anything like this, and it was probably some sort of test, but how many times had he fantasized about this? He gave the barest hint of a nod.

Adrián leaned in, as though Michael was an animal he didn’t want to spook. But then his warm, soft lips were on Michael’s and everything seemed to slow. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned in, kissing Adrián slowly and gently. Adrián’s tongue teased along Michael’s lower lip and he realized: this wasn’t a polite kiss. This was how he kissed his girlfriends. A small noise escaped Michael, and he pressed in closer, one hand coming up to the firm line of Adrián’s shoulder. It was everything he’d ever wanted. Adrián was everything he’d ever wanted. Except… As Michael’s tongue met his, he wondered what kissing David like this would feel like. What would it be like to take his time with the blonde. To kiss him slowly and languidly and get lost in putting his hands on David’s body. Michael broke the kiss.

They were both breathing heavily. Adrián ran a hand through his short, dark hair, and Michael forced himself back to the present. It wasn’t David he was kissing; this was his best friend. But who did he want it to be?
“You’re so far away.”

“It’s him,” Michael said. Adrián nodded, understanding in his expression. “I can’t get him out of my head.”

“Even with me?”

Michael looked at Adrián then. Really looked. That kiss hadn’t been friendly and polite. Adrián kissed him like… Well, like he’d meant it. Adrián smiled shyly, a look Michael saw only rarely.

“What can I say? I’ve thought about it, too.”

Michael felt like a fool. All these years they’d been friends, they’d both been thinking about kissing each other, and it had taken moving away and meeting a new guy for them to actually do it. Michael laughed and took another long drink for bravery before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Adrián’s lips. “Come on,” he said with a wry smile. “Let’s play guitar and pretend this shit makes sense.”

It was Adrián’s turn to laugh. He ran a hand through his hair again, and Michael bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed the faint blush coloring his cheeks. What could they have been?

“Yeah, I can get behind that.”

Michael hopped out of the bed of the truck and back to the cab, grabbing his guitar. He resettled in the bed of the truck, but this time they were facing each other with the bottles resting between them. He adjusted his grip on the guitar and strummed once to make sure the tuning was right. It sounded right, but Michael had just tuned it last night so it damn well should.

They played for hours, passing the guitar back and forth and singing together, playing all sorts of music and drinking as they did. It was easy. In just three weeks, Michael had nearly forgotten how easy it was. And for the rest of the night, he just let it be easy.

Chapter Text

Michael awoke to light streaming through the windows. He wasn’t in his room, and it took a moment of blinking blearily to realize that he was in the guest room at Adrián’s house. He groaned and sat up, taking in the room. It hadn’t changed a bit, not that he’d expected it to. The thin, terra-cotta red sheets were soft though and the morning light was filtered by sheer curtains. He was tempted to lay back down, but he knew Adrián was probably already up. He stretched and got up, grabbing his bag from the nightstand and fishing through it for a toothbrush. He opened the guest room door and found Adrián there, poised to knock. His eyes went wide for a moment before he smiled. 

“Look at you. Up earlier than usual.”

Michael shrugged. “My sleep schedule is a disaster. Never know when I’ll be up.” He held up his toothbrush. “Anyways. Let me brush my teeth and then we can talk.”

Adrián nodded and stepped out of the way, the faintest touch of color on his cheeks. Michael walked down the hall, hooked a left into the upstairs guest bathroom, and closed the door. He splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth, his thoughts drifting back to the night before.

They’d kissed. The thought hit him over the head and he blinked owlishly. He and Adrián had kissed. No wonder he was blushing. Michael stared at his reflection. In two weeks, he’d gone from kissing zero guys to kissing the two hottest guys he’d ever met. Girls he knew would kill to kiss either of them. Let alone both.

His cheeks were still pink when he finished brushing his teeth and he splashed more water on his face, hoping to calm down. As the color began to fade he left the bathroom, heading back to the guest room where he found Adrián sitting on the bed. Adrián looked up at him, lower lip between his teeth. He smiled, but something about it seemed forced. Michael closed the door behind him when he walked into the room.

“So. It’s not me anymore.”

“What?”

Adrián glanced away before his eyes wandered back to Michael. Michael walked towards him and sat on the bed beside him.

“Last night I just thought… I dunno.  That something would change and you’d…” he hesitated. “Stay.”

It was Michael’s turn to bite his lip. He shook his head. “My family is in Santa Carla.”

“It’s not your family that’s holding you there.” The words weren’t accusatory. There was no bite. Just honesty, which felt so much worse. Michael could only look down. “I hope he’s good to you.”

Michael shook his head. “No, Adrián, it’s not-”

“It’s time to stop lying, Michael.” He sounded exasperated. “You’re almost nineteen. If you wanted to be here, with me, you could make it happen. But you don’t.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“But you’re not in love with me.” Adrián paused. “It’s David.”

Michael shook his head. “I’ve known the guy two weeks. I’m not-”

“But you want to find out if you could be.”

Michael shut his mouth. Adrián’s eyes lingered on his lips before flicking back up to his eyes. “Do me a favor, Mike.” His hand came up to Michael’s shoulder. “Be honest with him. And be honest with yourself.” Michael opened his mouth to reply but Adrián beat him to it. “No more of this talk. I’m cutting it off. We’re going to have a good day because you’re still my best friend. So, let’s visit my abuelita , hit up the usual places, and tomorrow morning you can leave and go back to him.”

Michael wanted to protest. Wanted to kiss Adrián again and fulfill every fantasy he used to have. But it wasn’t right. Those fantasies weren’t his anymore. He knew that if he kissed Adrián right now, he’d still find himself thinking about David. He just nodded.

Adrián stood, that perpetual optimism returning to his face and his brown eyes alight with his usual spark. “Come on then. Up and at ‘em.” 

Michael could only nod again, and he found that as Adrián closed the door behind him, another door closed too.

Ten minutes later he was dressed and downstairs. It was nearly nine; earlier than Michael usually got up, that much was certain. Adrián was waiting for him, two bowls of Lucky Charms on the counter. Michael had yet to see Marietta, but Elisa was at the dining room table working on a crossword. She smiled over her glasses when she saw Michael. Her long black hair was in a thick braid and a light grey shirt hung loosely around her shoulders.

“Good morning, Michael,” she called. Michael picked up his cereal and followed Adrián into the dining room. The dining table sat four, and Michael sat across from Elisa while Adrián sat to her left. Breakfast was quiet, and Michael didn’t mind. It was peaceful, really. It was just nice to be back in Phoenix. Back in this house. 

After breakfast he and Adrián headed for the hospital. His abuelita was out of the ICU, and in theory she would be able to leave tomorrow to come home. He explained all this on the way, but pulling up to the hospital still made Michael uncomfortable. He thought back to the last time he'd been here. Adrián had broken down, sobbing in Michael's arms as his father was wheeled inside. They buried him a week later.

Michael shook those thoughts away and glanced over to see Adrián with a tense expression. He forced a smile and they parked. Adrián went to open his door and Michael reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“I'll be better when she's home.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I get that.” He gave Adrián a moment to collect himself before saying, “let's go inside.” Adrián opened the door and got out of the truck.

They walked into the hospital and Adrián did the talking as Michael watched people hurrying around them. Adrián's knuckles brushed against the back of Michael's hand and he glanced over. He looked pale. Uncertain.

“She's going to be okay.”

He nodded, and Michael knew it was because he didn't have it in him to speak. Adrián picked his way through the hospital and Michael stayed close by, fingers flexing nervously as he kept them at his sides.

Before long they were outside room 206. Sure enough, he saw her name on the door. Adrián rolled his shoulders and Michael bit back the urge to put a hand on his back. He knocked and then pushed open the door, and Michael followed him through.

The smell inside the room was just as sterile as everywhere else, but beneath the sour medicinal notes Michael found lavender and gardenia. She smelled like she always did. The old woman was sitting up in her bed reading a book. Her cheeks were more sunken than when he'd last seen her, but when she looked over at them and smiled there was warmth and life in her face.

“Adrián! Michael!”

Michael closed the door behind them as Adrián walked to her bedside and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Michael stepped up behind him and as Adrián moved he took his place, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. The smell of flowers was stronger at this distance, and her brown eyes shone with affection as she looked at him. Her hair, long and white, was down for the first time in recent memory and falling around her narrow, delicate shoulders.

“Oh, my boys. It's so good to see you,” she said, but Michael didn't miss the breathy quiver in her voice.

Adrián cast a glance at Michael and there was something almost sad in the look. The expression vanished quickly though, buried by a smile.

“Michael's just in town for today, but we wanted to say hi.” He sat at the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

She told them all about her morning; reading a new book a nurse had brought her, eating her flavorless breakfast and a pudding cup, and she'd just begun to tell them how much better she was feeling when a cough overtook her, wracking her body. From the look on Adrián's face, it wasn't the worst he'd seen, and sure enough, the fit died down quickly. She leaned back and caught her breath as Adrián took over talking for a bit. He was a nervous talker, and as he talked, his grandmother looked at Michael with an expression he found hard to read.

“Michael, what brings you back to Phoenix?” She asked during a lull in Adrián's near-ceaseless chatter. Michael found his eyes wandering towards Adrián but quickly refocused on his grandmother. 

“I missed this place.”

“And how is Santa Carla?”

He smiled. “It's quite something.”

She settled back in the bed and gestured for him to go on. Michael wasn't a nervous talker, and as he started talking, he realized that he didn't know how to talk about Santa Carla without David consuming his thoughts. He couldn't just talk like Adrián did, and as he tried to explain the boardwalk, he kept finding David's name on the tip of his tongue. He bit it back time and time again, but from the look on Adrián's face, he was the opposite of subtle. He fell silent, then, and looked at her uncertainly.

“Adrián, would you please go get me water?”

Michael's stomach dropped. It was a ploy to talk to him alone, and it was an obvious one. What could he do, though? Run from an elderly woman? Adrián whispered an affirmative and stepped out of the room. She waited until his footsteps receded down the hall and fixed her eyes on Michael.

“You have a hard path ahead of you, young man.”

“Excuse me?”

“My grandson is head over heels for you, you know.” Michael wanted to scream. Did everyone know but him? What the fuck was happening? “But I can tell you've got someone else in mind. Is it a boy?”

Did he lie? Could he lie? He sighed, nodding.

“Mhm. I thought so. I've met a lot of people in this hallway. A few guys just a bit older than you. You know what they were in here for?”

Michael wanted to leave, then, but something in him made him stay. She cared about him, didn't she? She'd said before that she considered him family. He'd give her one chance. He nodded—he knew about the disease she was talking about.

“Be safe, Michael. It would kill him if something happened to you.” So, that was her angle. He nodded slowly. “You’re a good boy. Don't forget about us, okay? Don't forget about him.”

Michael shook his head, then. “I couldn't if I tried.” She smiled.

Adrián walked back in then, water in hand. “Here you go, abuelita .”

She thanked him and accepted the water, smiling innocently. The rest of the visit went smoothly, as though she hadn't said those things to him. The second they said their goodbyes and got back to the truck, though, Adrián turned to him with his brows furrowed.

“She was talking about me. I hate when she talks about me.”

“Yeah, she was.”

“And? Come on, you know you have to tell me.”

Michael leaned back in the seat. “She knows. I swear, that woman knows everything. But she knows… well, about your feelings. And mine.”

Adrián rolled his eyes and muttered something in Spanish under his breath. “She does love to meddle. You know, before you left she told me I should tell you how I feel.”

“Do you regret not?”

Adrián hesitated, then shrugged. “Too late to change anything. You're still my best friend, and I hope you always will be. I'm okay with that.”

Michael looked out the window for a moment before turning back to his friend. “Do you want to grab lunch? I'll buy.”

Adrián started the truck.

The day flew by after that as Michael remembered what it was like to be in Adrián's orbit. They ran into old friends, wandered through familiar streets, and hit the arcade until the sun sunk below the horizon. The night found them in the desert, laughing and sitting side by side under the light of the half moon. Adrián leaned in, eyes fixed on his, and sucked in a quick breath as his lips quirked in a half smile. 

“You'll come back again soon, right?”

“I think it's your turn to make the drive, actually,” Michael replied through his own smile.

Adrián's eyes dropped to Michael's lips before sliding back up his face as his smile fell away. “I shouldn't have kissed you last night.” Michael opened his mouth to reply when Adrián cut him off. “No, I shouldn't have. Now I know what I'm missing and I…” He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. He seemed to want to say something but nothing came out. He shut his eyes and leaned his head on Michael’s shoulder. Michael felt his shoulders begin to shake, then, and something inside him felt like it was shattering into pieces. He put an arm around Adrián’s shoulders and tried to find the right words.

“I’m so sorry.” Adrián's words came out as little more than a choked whisper. He tilted his face up towards Michael and blinked back tears as he continued speaking. “I should’ve told you.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to kiss the man and another part of him wanted to run away. He put his other hand on Adrián’s chest, holding him tight against his body. “I will always care about you.”

Adrián nodded, smiling past the tears. “Just don’t lose touch.”

Michael shook his head. “I won’t.”

They lapsed into silence, then. Adrián’s shoulders were still but Michael didn’t let go. They stayed pressed together in the bed of the truck for what could’ve been an eternity, and Michael, on the ride home, wished they’d stayed longer.

He left just after dawn. He pressed one final kiss to Adrián’s cheek after hugging him tightly, and whispered that he’d call. Adrián made him promise to talk to David, and then Michael was back on the road driving west. Driving home. But he’d left a part of himself behind, just like last time.

Michael made it back to Santa Carla about an hour before sundown. He parked the car and walked inside and upstairs without a word.

“Michael?” His mother called after him, but he made his way up the stairs without pause. “Michael, are you okay?”

“ ‘m fine. Just need a minute,” he called back to her. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, and she was still standing there when he closed the door to his room behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, chest aching. Was Adrián thinking of him? Did he want him to be? And what about David? Michael ran his hands through his hair. Phoenix was supposed to make things less complicated.

“David,” he groaned. He’d given up Adrián for David. When he and Adrián kissed, though, the blond was all he’d been able to think about. He wanted to scream.

“David, David, David,” he whispered.

“Michael.” It was an exhalation. Michael sat bolt upright, looking for the man. He was, of course, not there, but it was in looking for David that he realized what he needed to do. He unpacked quickly, changed, and grabbed the keys to his bike. He needed to see David. Tonight.

He left not long after, sneaking out for the night so he wouldn’t have to deal with explanations for his mother. The woman could worry like few others, and he did not need that problem tonight. As he rode through the growing darkness, he felt his heart racing. David. He was going to see David. Fuck, what was he going to say?

When he pulled up to the entrance it was fully dark, but he heard laughter coming up from below. Good, they hadn’t left yet. He killed the engine and got off, following after the music and voices. He descended into the hotel, and his eyes landed on peroxide blond hair. The man in question turned around, ocean eyes fixing on Michael in the flickering light of the fire. His jaw clenched for a moment, and Michael found that everything except the blond seemed to fade.

“Hey,” he said, breathless. David tilted his head, eyes locked on Michael’s.

“Look who’s back.” There was something acidic in his tone. Michael realized, then, that he’d never mentioned leaving. He had, in fact, turned tail and fled. He glanced around and realized that the other guys had vanished into the shadows.

“Just got out of town for a few days,” Michael said. “Visited a friend.”

David's lips curved into a condescending shape. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it and shook his head. “You're with us all the time and then you're gone for three days with no word. Thought something had happened.”

Michael felt guilty, then. “I’m sorry.” David nodded slowly, the motion contemplative. “Look, I-” Michael paused, choking on the words. There were so many things that he’d wanted to say, but in this moment he couldn’t say any of them. He’d rehearsed it time and time again in the car, and yet the words evaporated on his tongue. Did he know David? Did he really know David?

“Come out with me tonight.”

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but David cut him off.

“Just us. You and me.”

There was something in his eyes. He and David had never really spent time alone together, and every time they had… Michael thought back to their first kiss. To when he’d begged David to kiss him. There was only one way this was likely to go. But the way David was looking at him: those blue eyes had a question in them rather than an answer. He was uncertain, and really, who the hell was Michael pretending to be thinking he’d say no?

“Yes.” It was little more than a whisper, but David’s eyes shifted immediately. Gone was the uncertainty and blooming within those eyes was a passion. A desire, really. For what, Michael wasn’t sure. But he looked at Michael like he was hungry, and damn if he didn’t want it to be for him.

Chapter Text

Michael followed David out to a river, but their pace was slower, less urgent, than normal. They arrived and David propped his bike, the motion slow. Contemplative. The river was wide but sluggish and looking at it, Michael suspected it was deep. It was beautiful; the lazily moving water gleaming a deep sapphire with streaks of silver and reflecting a shifting, rippling moon.

Michael turned to David and found the man halfway through taking off his coat. God, was he beautiful in this light. His hair gleamed a bright silver and his skin looked like flawless alabaster. His gloves came next, and Michael couldn’t take his eyes off David’s hands. The man was lean, but he had a bit of muscle to him. His hands looked strong, but not calloused. How would they feel touching him without the gloves to break the contact?

“You just going to watch?” David asked in a low tone. There was something about his voice… Michael swallowed hard.

“Didn’t expect to go swimming tonight.”

David’s other hand came free of the glove and Michael fought to keep focused on the man's face. David smirked, eyes blinking slowly and lazily as his head tilted. “You do know how to swim, don’t you, Michael?” David dropped the gloves atop his coat and gripped the hem of his shirt. Michael found his mouth so dry he couldn’t verbalize a response. He just nodded and watched as David began pulling his shirt up and off his body.

Inch after inch of skin was revealed, as pale and beautiful as the rest of him. His abs were lightly defined, and his chest… Michael blinked and forced himself to look back towards the river. David was beautiful. Handsome, sure. But the man was also breathtakingly beautiful. Michael wanted to know what the rest of him looked like. Instead, he stared out at the water before taking off his own jacket. He dropped it behind him before starting to pull at his shirt. He pulled it up over his head, dropping it behind him as well and for a moment, regardless of how women looked at him (and oh, they looked at him) he felt nervous. What would David think?

He turned and found David’s eyes on him. There was no shame in the look as he took in every inch of Michael’s body. His eyes flicked up to Michael’s as he pulled off his boots before working at the button of his pants. Michael realized, then, he wasn’t sure how much they were taking off. Were they stripping down to nothing? Could he do that? Would they even make it to the water?

David answered the question by standing in fitted boxers and waiting patiently for Michael to finish. Michael pulled off his own pants and didn’t miss the quick glance that David shot him. Michael looked back to the water then and began walking toward it before he lost his nerve. David started walking beside him, and Michael’s thoughts raced as he tried to figure out what the hell to do in the water that didn’t involve putting his hands on David. He’d just float. Swim around a little. David looked at him, but hadn’t made any other move or comment. What were they doing out here?

David paused in his steps. Michael stopped, looking back at him. David looked out at the water, appearing to be lost in thought. “I used to come here before…” he paused. “A long time ago. I figured I’d show you something important to me.”

Michael felt like an idiot. Here he was thinking with… well, not his brain, when David was being vulnerable. This place meant something to him. He probably wasn’t trying to hook up. He swore under his breath.

David touched his shoulder. His skin was cold, but his hands were smooth and strong. Michael leaned into the touch, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. David guided Michael to face him, and Michael didn’t resist. David looked at him, and Michael recognized that intensity burning in his eyes: desire. His eyes burned gold with it, that inner ring vivid even in the low light.

“Michael, I need you to tell me you don’t want me.”

That caught him off guard. How the hell did he do that?

“I promised you I wouldn’t kiss you again. You made me promise. If that's still what you want, I need you to tell me right now.”

David stepped closer and Michael swallowed. This was on him. He had to make this call. He knew, though, what he wanted. Had been unable to stop thinking about David since he’d left Santa Carla. Here, barely dressed and standing under the moon with David’s hand on his skin and with only a few inches between them… Michael couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Please.”

“Please what?” There was a tension in David’s voice. What control he seemed to hold over himself was close to snapping.

“Kiss me.”

David pressed against Michael slowly, closing those last few inches between them and slotting his mouth against Michael’s. He moaned, moaned into the kiss, and his hands dropped to Michael’s waist. He gripped Michael hard, those strong hands framing his body. Michael brought his hands up to David’s shoulders, feeling the corded muscle just under the skin. This, this , was heaven. David’s tongue traced Michael’s lower lip, and Michael didn’t hesitate to press his tongue to David’s. They met in the middle gently, teasingly, before they returned to an open-mouthed kiss. Michael tried to ignore that tell-tale ache building within him. Tried to pretend he wasn’t starting to get hard. But David pressed his hips against Michael’s, and he felt David stiffening as well. He realized wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take this. How far David wanted to take this. Michael had had sex with women before (just one, actually, and just the once), but this? This was entirely new territory.

David broke the kiss then, breathing heavily. His eyes were molten gold with blue just around the edges, burning with desire. He shifted his hips, and Michael felt further evidence of that desire press against his thigh. It was Michael's turn to groan, but when he leaned back in, David turned away. He pressed his lips to Michael’s ear. “Later,” he whispered. He stepped away then, and Michael watched as David, without so much as a glance back, walked into the water.

He pushed off when he was deep enough to do so, swimming out into the river. Droplets of water beaded on his skin, making the man glisten like liquid silver in the moonlight. Michael, realizing once again that he was staring, walked out into the water to join him.

It was cool against his skin but not cold. No, the water was really quite pleasant. He waded out until he was halfway to David and then pushed off just as the other man had. He swam out to David, who was treading water.

“Nice night.” David said. Michael laughed.

“After everything that's happened between us, you want to comment on the weather?”

David smiled. He leaned back, laying out under the moon in the water. He floated easily on his back, staring up at the sky. Michael swam to his side and did the same. Their fingertips brushed as they watched the moon.

“What changed your mind?”

Michael sighed. How could he explain? “I haven't, really. I'm scared of my feelings, but I'm more scared of what life would be like without them. Without you.”

“And here I thought you were mad at me.”

“I dunno. Sometimes I am. But I can't stop thinking about your hands on me. The way you taste…” Michael stopped talking, feeling like he was rambling. It was too much; he was too much.

David laid in silence for a while after that. “ Je pense toujours à toi ,” he said finally. “Do you know what that means?”

It didn’t sound like Spanish. Michael realized that quickly, but beyond that… “No,” he said.

“I think always of you.” Michael’s chest felt tight. His girlfriends up until now hadn’t made him feel the way those words out of David’s mouth did. Michael turned his head, looking over at David. David, who was still staring up at the sky.

“What if I could promise you always?”

Michael smiled. “Isn't that the dream?”

“Would you want it? If there were no rules, no reasons to be afraid, no family to tell you no?”

Michael blinked, turning his head to look at David. David, who was staring up at the moon. David, who spoke softly as his fingers traced along the hard line of Michael's forearm.

“Yes,” he whispered. David looked at him, then. Really looked.

“You were sad when you came here.” It wasn’t a question. “You left someone behind.”

Michael sucked in a breath. He straightened in the water, pushing his feet down and treading water. David did the same. David moved towards him, leaving just enough space between them that only their fingers brushed as they were treading.

“That’s why you went back to Phoenix, isn't it? For him.”

Michael stuttered a few times before finally giving up. “Mhm,” he hummed softly. David smiled, but there was no joy in the expression.

“You should have stayed in Phoenix.”

Michael's brows furrowed. He shook his head. “No, I came back-”

“You hardly know me. Him? You know him well. I'm sure he's a sweet boy, who will love you gently and kindly.” David paused. “You should go back to him.”

No, no, no. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He knew what he wanted. “What if I want to choose you?”

David laughed. “I'm too selfish to say no. You can choose to stay here. Stay with me. But it's only fair that you know what that means.”

Something cold sluiced through Michael, like ice down his spine.  “What do you mean?”

“Come to shore with me, Michael. I have something to tell you.”

Something like unease settled in Michael’s gut. Something was wrong. However, he did what he was told. He swam after David towards the shore, planting his feet when he could before wading out of the water. He shivered for a moment, but the air was warm and the breeze was light. He turned toward David, whose gaze was fixed on something behind him. Unease became dread in Michael’s stomach.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

A voice startled Michael out of his fixation with David. He turned just as Carmilla rounded a curve in the path off of the river’s shore. Her eyes were glittering gold, but it was as though the color were behind a veil of ice. Where the gold in David’s eyes was warm, hers was frigid. She stepped slowly towards them, long legs closing the distance. David tensed, and Michael found himself on edge. For some reason, he had a bad feeling that this woman spelled dire news. Fortunately, she was alone tonight. Even mostly naked, Michael couldn’t bring himself to be truly scared of her.

When she began to get close, David stepped in front of him. Where David usually sauntered, now he stalked, his strong shoulders taking up space. He remembered then that David was just as nearly-naked as he, and a kind of jealousy filled him. He pushed it down, focusing instead on what was going on between David and Carmilla.

“Leave.”

“Give me what I want.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Then I guess I have no choice.” She smiled then, eyes flicking over to lock onto Michael’s. David lunged for her, but Carmilla was faster. She danced around him and dove for Michael. He tried to get out of the way, but she was agile and grasped his wrist in a vice-like grip. She yanked him towards her, and before he had a second to process what was happening, Carmilla dug her teeth into his throat.

Several things happened then, which to Michael seemed almost simultaneous. His neck exploded with pain before shock set in, numbing him as panic swept him up in icy claws. Carmilla’s grip tightened further, bruising the skin of his wrist as her other hand came up to grip the other side of his neck. And then she was being hauled off him with an angry screech. Michael collapsed.

He lay on the riverbank, pressing a hand to his neck and feeling blood pouring from the wound. He stared at the sky, the pounding of his heart and the blood against his hand the only sensations in his body. He swore he could hear screaming, but then again his ears were ringing. Was it really someone screaming? Was he making it up? Where was David?

“Michael?”

There were hands on him then, one covering the wound on his neck and the other supporting his head. It was David, who seemed almost to glow in this light.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Michael reached up towards the man, but David seemed not to notice. His eyes were locked on Michael’s neck. Right. The blood. He was bleeding, wasn’t he? He couldn’t really feel the blood anymore. Maybe he’d stopped bleeding? His vision seemed to pulse at the edges, blackness creeping in. He couldn’t see much more than David, who was… whispering?

“Michael, tell me you want forever with me.”

“What?” It felt like his mouth was full of cotton.

“Tell me,” David said imploringly, “that you want to spend forever with me.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” His head was swimming. The words that fell from his lips sounded shapeless. But he wasn’t too far out of it to miss David bringing his own wrist up to his mouth and biting it. To miss the blood that dripped from the wound. David, with a look like a wounded animal, brought his wrist to Michael’s mouth, but the world went dark before it reached him.

Chapter Text

The first thing Michael noticed as he drifted towards consciousness was a pounding in his head. Had he drank too much last night? He couldn’t remember drinking, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t done it. He looked around, surveying his surroundings.

He was in the hotel. Alone. It was bright, brighter than dawn anyway. He yawned and stretched, sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair and blinked against the light. It seemed… brighter than usual. He must be hung over. He hauled himself to his feet, legs a little unsteady beneath him. He headed up the stairs and out into the midday sun.

As he stepped out the light became an assault on his senses. His head ached at its brightness, his eyes stinging as a kind of weight settled over him. It felt like being shoved under water—he could hardly breathe from the pressure in his chest. As he stood in the sunlight, though, the feeling began to abate. His headache died down to a dull throbbing ache, and he felt as though he might be able to move again without it being a monumental effort. He took in his surroundings, looking for his bike. He had to get home.

His bike was up there, alongside four others. Were they here? He hadn't seen them and honestly, he didn't have it in him to look. His mom must be losing her mind. And he promised Sam he’d take him to the boardwalk. He zipped up his jacket and got on his bike, heading home. His mom’s car wasn’t there when he got home. He walked inside the house, heading straight upstairs. It was quiet—Sam must be reading comics in his room. Michael headed for the bathroom, unzipping his jacket and tossing it on the bed on the way. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself—and choked down a scream. He was covered in blood.

Michael stared at himself. The entire left shoulder of his white t-shirt was soaked with blood. He remembered, then, what happened with Carmilla. David standing over him afterwards and saying… something. What the fuck had happened last night? He decided, then, that whatever it was, it was best if his family wasn’t involved. He locked the bathroom door.

Michael pulled his shirt off and leaned towards the mirror to get a look at the wound. Only, there was no wound. His skin was a little red, but there were no marks. Nothing that would have caused that much blood. Michael felt something akin to fear well in his gut but shook it away. He would shower. He would talk to David. He would get everything straightened out. Figure out what the hell had happened to him last night.

Michael showered, taking his time to wash all the blood from his body and out of his hair. Flashes of last night came back; stripping down to almost nothing, talking and swimming under the moon. Kissing David. God, they had really kissed. Not a polite, excusable kiss, either. And fuck, if he didn’t want that again. After he got answers, of course. That had to come first.

The second he was out of the shower he brushed his teeth and then looked at himself in the mirror. Aside from being a little pale, he looked normal. He must’ve not lost as much blood as he thought. He could have sworn he remembered bleeding everywhere. But, then again, a grown woman had just bitten him.

He remembered, then, her face. The look of wrath, her features contorted with it. Her face had seemed… wrong, somehow. And her eyes; they’d been a frozen-over golden color. Michael shivered despite the warmth of the room. He shook his head, wrapped his towel around his hips, and walked back into his room. He shut the door and got dressed, thinking all the while about what to do with the bloody shirt. He walked back into the bathroom, grabbed the shirt, and a strange fascination grabbed him. He stared at it, long and hard. He could smell the sharp metallic tang, as well as something strangely sweet. As footsteps sounded up to his door, though, he ignored the smell and tossed it under the bed.

“Mike?” Sam asked, opening the door. Michael turned and saw his brother in the doorway. Michael hurried over and wrapped Sam in a hug.

“I’m sorry, bro.”

Sam pulled back, looking at him.

“Mom knows you snuck out. Are you freebasing? Is there a girl? Why are you never home? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Michael shook his head. “I’ve got it all figured out, Sam. I promise, I’ll be home more now.” Sam looked unconvinced. Michael ran a hand through his hair and then smiled.”What if I take you for comics and ice cream?”

“You’re bribing me?”

Michael shrugged. “I guess?”

Sam looked at him for a long moment. “Yeah. That'd be cool.” Michael smiled. David could wait till this afternoon. He’d spend some time with his brother first. However… Michael looked at the clock and winced. It was already one. He turned to Sam. 

“Let’s hurry. We should stop by the video shop and hopefully catch mom in a good mood.”

“ You can stop by the video shop.”

So. Mom was really pissed then. It was rare that Sam passed up a chance to see Michael get chewed out. He just nodded. That was fair. He might deserve it. A little.

“Let’s go.”

A little less than a half-hour later found Michael parking his bike at the west entrance. His was the only bike there, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he and Sam got off the bike. Sam was already talking about what comics he was looking for, and Michael smiled. The kid was easy to bribe. He’d missed Sam.

“Ice cream before or after?”

“Definitely before. Don't want to get ice cream on the comics.”

Michael nodded. “Sounds good.”

He led the way through the boardwalk, smiling as Sam talked through a rant. “And that's why I need that comic.” Michael laughed at that point.

“Alright, nerd. I got it, I got it.” He ruffled Sam's hair and then opened the door to the shop. They got ice cream, and in the silence that ensued while they waited, it occurred to Michael that there was somewhere he was supposed to have been last night. Where that was, though, he had no idea. 

As Michael brought the ice cream to his mouth nausea overtook him. He stared at the cone, finding that his stomach turned at the smell of it. He could smell the sugar and the cream, and the bits of mint and chocolate. It was a sugary mess, and Michael wanted nothing to do with it. As Sam ate his ice cream Michael forced himself to have a bite of his own, if only to keep Sam from noticing his discomfort. It tasted like it smelled, though, and as Michael swallowed the bite, he realized he couldn’t take another. He muttered an excuse to Sam and tossed his ice cream in a trash can. Sam just stared, and for once he was silent as they walked. His eyes kept landing on Michael, which grated on his nerves. His headache was only getting worse, and his whole body ached. His brother could fuck right off. Michael just wanted to be left alone. 

It was as Michael walked past the music store that he remembered something that made the day worse: he’d missed Star's performance with Carmilla. Except… Carmilla had been at the river. Hadn't she?

“Mike?” Sam asked, and Michael realized he'd stopped walking. He looked around, quickly scanning to determine where the music shop was from here.

“I need to make a quick detour.”

Sam shrugged, then followed Michael through the moderately busy boardwalk and to the music shop. Michael walked inside and there she was: Star, shelving vinyls. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, then offered a half smile. There was something reserved in her posture. A tension that wasn't normally there.

“How was your trip to see Adrián?”

“It was good to see him. Good to be back in Phoenix. And I'm back just in time to start tomorrow.” He paused. “I'm sorry, by the way. I got caught up last night and couldn't make it to the show.” At that, some of the tension went out of her.

“No, it's fine. No big deal. Carmilla was sick anyway. The gig got canceled the day of. Some other band headlined.”

Michael winced. “Sorry. I know you were excited to perform with them.”

“Don't worry about it.” She smiled at them, then, clearly done talking about it. “Did you need anything?”

A new album later, Michael and Sam were walking towards the comic shop. Sam was still eating his ice cream that Michael bought for him, though that didn't stop him from talking shit.

“Wow, you really blew it with her, huh?”

“I was never trying. She's got a boyfriend.”

“So, did you blow her off last night to go see the girl you're actually into?” He goaded Michael, a half-smile on his lips.

“Sammy, why all the questions?”

“Just trying to talk to my brother. Sheesh. Have a rough visit with Adrián? You're moodier now than before you left.”

Michael didn't respond. The rest of their walk passed in near silence between them. Fortunately, it wasn't a long walk from the music store to the comic shop.

Michael didn't expect to buy anything at the store, but the moment he walked in something caught his eye. One of the kids who ran the shop was reading a comic, and on the back of the comic were a pair of big, golden eyes. Just like Carmilla’s eyes. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory. What the hell happened last night? He stared at the comic, thoughts whirling.

“Whatcha reading?” He said finally. Sam was off wandering, while Michael’s feet had, of their own volition, carried him over to the brother reading the comic with the eyes. The boy lowered the comic and looked Michael over, a sneer on his face.

“ Vampires Everywhere . It's a cult classic. Not really for guys like you.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I'll take it. Give me one you think is good.”

The kid arched a brow, looking him over with a more critical eye. Finally, he nodded. Without another word he vanished down an aisle of comics before coming back a moment later with another comic.

“Here. This might just save your life.”

Michael blinked. Had he heard the kid correctly? He looked at the cover. It was blue, with the words “Vampires Everywhere” written across the front. A drawing of a classic Count Dracula-looking guy took up most of the front cover, but on the back… up close, those eyes were almost identical to hers. David's though… David's had that ring of blue. He wasn't like her. Whatever that meant.

“You seen eyes like those?”

Michael almost replied without thinking. Instead he bit his tongue and said carefully: “No, I haven't.”

What was this kid getting at? The kid sized him up, staring him down. “Good,” was all he said. Michael turned his back on the strange kid and walked over to the cash register. The other brother was waiting there, deep in conversation with Sam. When they saw him coming, however, they fell silent. Sam eyed the comic in his hand before frowning.

“I already picked out a comic.”

Michael shook his head. “This is for me.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply and then shut it. He shrugged, but his eyes flicked over to the kid at the register, and Michael got the distinct impression that he was missing something.

“Alright, man. But just know that it might open your eyes to some wild shit in this town.” He almost whispered the swear, and Michael bit back a laugh. This kid wasn't nearly as tough as he wanted to be. As Michael had been at his age.

“Sure. I'll keep that in mind.”

The kid opened his mouth to say something else but seemed to think better of it.

“I'll be right back, Sammy. Don't wander.”

Michael gripped Sam’s shoulder briefly as he passed him and left the shop. The walk to the video store was short, but it was just long enough for dread to build in Michael's stomach. He grimaced as it came into view but walked in anyways.

His mom was shelving some tapes off near the back of the store, and he made a beeline for her. Better just to get this shit over with.

“Mom.”

She turned and a look of shock and relief crossed her face. She stood up quickly before wrapping him in a tight hug. She then held him out at arm’s length, looking him over.

“Where have you been?” Her voice brooked no argument. She was pissed.

“I had to see someone.”

“And who is more important than us? Than your family?”

“It's not that…” he didn't want to use David's name. He wasn't ready for that conversation with his mom. “Look, I just needed to see someone. But now that's handled.”

She pursed her lips. “I've about had it with you. You're out all hours of the night. Half the time you sleep all day. You're practically a recluse! What are you, a vampire?”

Michael remembered the comic in his hand and glanced down at it. Those glowing golden eyes stared back. He shook his head.

“I'm sorry.” He almost sounded genuine. Truthfully, he was more annoyed than repentant.

She sighed, then. She looked tired, and a sliver of guilt welled up in him. She pulled him in for another hug.

“Just… tell someone before you go running off.”

“I will. But I've got to get back. Sam’s waiting in the comic shop.”

Another exasperated sigh. “You know how I feel about him being alone at the boardwalk.”

“It’s the middle of the day, and he’s with his friends.”

She put her index finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose and took a breath. “The two of you are really something, you know that?”

“Bye,” he said quickly, the word clipped.

She just waved.

Michael headed back out of the shop. He wandered back towards the comic book shop, thoughts drifting back towards David. The sun came out from behind a cloud and he grimaced, a wave of nausea rolling over him. Had it always been so bright? The headache, body aches, and nausea felt like a hangover, but it came out of nowhere… He stopped by a street vendor and bought a pair of sunglasses, hoping to take the sting out of his eyes. He walked the rest of the way to the shop, where Sam was talking to the same kid as before. The other kid was organizing comics. As Michael got back, they fell silent, as though they’d been talking about him. Had they been? Or was he being paranoid? The boy leaned over to Sam.

“We’ll check him out.” The words had been all but whispered, but Michael heard them from across the room. What the hell was going on? He pretended he hadn’t heard and beckoned Sam towards him.

“Come on. Let’s hit some of the other shops. Maybe play a few games.”

Sam’s eyes lit up and all thought of his conversation with the kid dropped. It was Sam; he trusted Sam. No way would the kid talk any serious shit about him.

They spent the rest of the afternoon doing exactly as Michael suggested. They played all sorts of stupid carnival games, Michael talked Sam out of cotton candy (really, Sam, they’d just had ice cream), and even rode a couple rides. As the sun began creeping toward the horizon Michael guided Sam towards the bike. Sam had brought a small bag (“it was called a satchel and not a purse, thank-you-very-much”) and kept Michael’s comic in it. As they got on the bike, Sam tucked it carefully between them.

The ride home felt especially short. Much as he forced himself to focus on the road, his mind kept drifting. What exactly had happened the night before? He’d go talk to David once he dropped Sam off. Figure out what the hell had happened.

Michael followed Sam into the house when they finally got home. Once they were out of the hot summer air, Sam handed the comic over to Michael. 

“Hey, Sam.” Sam was already halfway up the stairs, having taken off after handing over the comic. He thought about asking what they’d been talking about, but thought better of it. “Forget it.”

Sam shrugged and hurried into his room. Michael realized he was still wearing the sunglasses, but found that he didn’t want to take them off.
He headed up the stairs and walked into the bathroom, intent on running a comb through his hair before heading back out. He looked at the mirror and sucked in a breath as sensation left his body, rendering him numb. What the fuck was going on?

He looked like himself, but he was transparent. Translucent? He always confused the two. Either way, he could see himself but also see through himself. He hadn't looked like that this morning, had he? No, he'd have noticed.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. He laughed nervously, pulling down his glasses to inspect himself. As he did so he caught flecks of gold in his eyes. Eyes that were normally completely and utterly blue. He touched his face, which felt normal. Everything felt normal. He felt fine, but how could he explain what he was seeing? He made a snap decision: he would go see David. Now.

He raced down the stairs, his concerns about his hair a thing of the past. He got onto his bike and rode through the growing pallor of dusk. The sun had only just set when he reached the hotel, where he found David waiting.

Chapter Text

“What the hell’s going on, David?”

“I meant to ease you into it.” David sounded sympathetic, but not sorry. He just tilted his head, regarding Michael like a puzzle.

“Ease me into what?” Michael couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. He felt like he might fall apart without David there to hold him together. Something was very wrong. David just looked at him though, perfectly calm and curious. It made Michael want to scream. He stepped towards Michael, and for a moment, Michael almost ran to him. He hesitated. Stayed stock still, instead. David knew something he didn’t want to say—Michael could see the secret in his eyes. David took another step towards Michael, approaching him as one might approach a wild animal. Michael felt like a wild animal. He almost couldn’t breathe. Couldn't think.

“David, please.” The words came out a whisper. David reached out, then. His gloved fingers gently settled onto Michael’s shoulder.

“I need you to trust me, Michael.”

Those blue eyes fixed on his as his fingers wandered up Michael’s neck and gently cupped his jaw. He was close. So, so close, and all Michael wanted was to lean in. To kiss him. To forget every bad feeling and all the fear that threatened to consume him. Michael shook his head.

“Please. David, I need to know.” David nodded, eyes drifting down for a moment. They slid back up and locked back on Michael’s. The ring of gold was thin and that staggering blue gripped him. “What happened?”

“Tell me everything you remember from last night.”

Michael thought back to the previous night. Thought hard. He remembered the lake. He remembered stripping down and kissing David. He remembered being in the water and staring up at the moon. Talking about forever. Leaving the water is where things got a little blurry. David was going to tell him something, right? Yeah, and then…

“Carmilla showed up.” Michael jumped straight there. Something in him knew that she was, at least in part, responsible for this. David grimaced.

“Yes, she did.”

“She attacked me.”

David nodded. “And?”

“I don’t remember much else. I remember…” staring up at David like he was the moon—utterly transfixed by his beauty. Tell me you want to spend forever with me. David’s words echoed through his head. “You saved me. How did you save me? What happened to me?”

“Let me show you.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

David leaned in closer, and Michael found himself swept up in the smell of Marlboros and leather. He was inches away then, and Michael could hardly think. He sucked in a breath and stepped back. David was distracting him, but Michael wasn’t going to succumb. He suspected David had saved him from something. From what, though, he wasn’t sure. Carmilla’s distorted face and frigid golden eyes took up the forefront of his mind. What the hell had David saved him from?

“The guys are getting ready. You and I are going to head out to the train tracks that cross the bridge just north of here. They’re going to meet us there shortly. I want to show you something.”

“You’re going to answer my questions then?”

David paused, but nodded slowly. Some of the tension went out of Michael and for a moment it felt, really felt, like everything would be okay. David would make everything okay. Michael didn’t let himself ponder the alternative.

David didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked towards his bike, just slow enough that Michael knew he was listening for Michael’s footsteps to follow. What choice did he have? He got back on his bike and rode after David towards the train tracks. It wasn’t a long ride, no more than ten minutes, but it gave Michael enough time to let the panic build back up. He had no answers about the night before and only David’s promise that he’d get them. There was nothing concrete. Nothing to explain what was going on. 

When Michael got off his bike, his hands were shaking. He grit his teeth, fighting to stay calm. David laid his bike down and walked over to Michael, the picture of serenity. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled two out before putting the rest back in his pocket. He put one to his lips and lit it before offering the other to Michael. Michael gratefully accepted. David leaned toward him, lighting the cigarette for him. Michael wanted to kiss him then. To pull the cigarette from between the man’s lips and just forget about all this shit. He almost did, but instead he stood, just smoking his cigarette. He felt like a coward. He felt like a fool.

“David,” he began. The blond turned to look at him. “Please.” The plea came out choked, caught in Michael’s throat. David’s jaw clenched, the muscle jumping under his skin.

“You died.”

Michael shook his head. “The truth. I want the truth.”

David didn’t so much as flinch. He stared at Michael, blue eyes hard and unyielding. “I’m giving it to you.” Michael’s mouth went dry.

“I’m alive. I’m walking and talking and breathing. If that’s not alive…”

David shook his head. “Half. You’re half alive.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Carmilla killed you. I held you in my arms as you bled out in the sand.” He paused, hesitating. “I saved you. But I can’t bring you back to life. At least, not the life you knew.”

“But I’m alive. I can’t be…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“You can’t be out in the sun without pain anymore, can you? You don’t have an appetite. Your reflection isn’t solid.” Michael felt dread welling up inside him. “Before long, you won’t need to sleep at night. Won’t be able to stay awake during the day.”

“Stop.”

“I’ve seen you at the comic shop. You know those golden eyes. The ones she has. The ones I have. The ones you have. Those comics don’t get much right, but that? They nailed that.”

“Stop!” It was almost a shout. “I don't understand. Am I some kind of…” he couldn't say the word. Couldn't force it through his teeth.

“Vampire.” The sympathy was gone from David's voice. His lips were quirked in a small smile. In those pretty blue eyes shone a dark gleam. “And you get to live forever. You will never get sick, Michael. Never grow old. Never die.”

Michael felt sick. He wanted to shout. To scream and fight and throw another punch at the blond. Wanted to do anything but believe him, but an awful truth lay coiled in those words. “Then you’re a killer like her?” He said finally, accusation in his voice.

“We kill to survive. Just like every other predator. Just like every person faced with life or death.”

Nausea threatened to overwhelm him as David returned to smoking his cigarette. Michael pulled his own cigarette to his lips and took a long drag of it. He shut his eyes. This had to be a joke. And yet… those burning gold eyes were seared into his mind. Carmilla was a vampire. David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko were vampires. He was a vampire.

“Let me show you how good it can be. Let me show you why I brought you here.”

Michael walked a few steps away, running a hand through his hair while he smoked. He hadn’t really been much of a smoker before coming here, but the guys did it often enough that he’d gotten into a bit of a habit. Right now it helped, and right now was all he cared to think about. He opened his eyes and looked back to David, who was leaning against a railing and watching him, arms crossed and cigarette hanging from his lips. There was something unearthly about him. How could Michael not have noticed? But, maybe he did. God, this was all his fault. He knew David was trouble. Knew it and couldn’t help himself, and now he was in too deep.

It wasn’t long before the sound of bikes in the distance drew his attention. He looked toward the sound and found that while he couldn’t quite see them, the dark wasn’t as heavy and impenetrable as usual. He looked up and found the moon was only half full, but he could see as if it were late-afternoon. The moon illuminated the world around him with pale light, but it caught and reflected off of seemingly everything. He looked back out and then he could see them, riding over the sandy ground. They approached fast, but slowed when they got close, before propping their bikes near David and Michael’s. Michael swallowed hard and snubbed his cigarette. He forced a smile, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Mikey!” Paul was the first to greet him, pulling him into a rough hug. “Heard you’re one of us!” He stepped back, white teeth glinting in the night as he grinned. “Let the good times roll!”

Marko was next, coming up and fist bumping him. “Right on, Mike.” He, too, wore a ridiculously large grin. Their enthusiasm was usually rather infectious, but tonight? Michael fought down anger. Swallowed it like venom. Dwayne approached with his signature half-smile, and Michael forced a small smile of his own. He wasn’t going to lose it. Not now. Not in front of them.

“Welcome to the club.”

“Well boys, I think it’s time we play the game,” David said.

There was a sound in the background of all of this; a quiet hum in the distance. It didn’t seem to grow louder, but it persisted nonetheless. Michael looked around for the source, but David drew his attention by gripping his shoulder and guiding him out along the tracks. The guys followed, laughing and whooping as they went. 

They all gathered around an opening in the tracks that dropped into… nothing. He looked down and saw only fog. What the hell were they doing?

“Bottoms up,” Paul said before winking at Michael. With a quick snap he dropped into the hole. Michael’s stomach dropped too. Marko stepped up next, throwing him a more reserved smile before waving.

“G’night Michael,” he said before dropping down after Paul. Michael was frozen. If vampires couldn't die… did they not feel pain? What happened when they hit the bottom? What the fuck was going on?

Dwayne stepped up in turn. He didn’t say a word, just snapped his fingers, pointed at Michael, and dropped. Michael couldn’t take it. He turned to David who tossed his cigarette off the side and smiled cooly. 

“Do you trust me?”

Michael bit his tongue. They weren't dead. Couldn't be. If this wasn't all bullshit, they were alive and well. “Do I have a choice?”

David shrugged. “You can always leave. But I would rather you stayed.” He leaned in, thought better of something, and then stepped back into the abyss.

Michael’s heart sank. All the anger bubbling in his chest turned to ice as he raced toward the edge and… there they were. They laughed and kicked at one another, hanging from bars under the tracks.

“Michael Emerson! Come on down!”

Michael swore softly. This was too much. One thing too many. He wanted to walk away. Wanted to give up and say screw it. But… David was looking at him like that . He wore that fucking smirk and looked up at him, sending sinful thoughts through his brain. Adrián was right; he was a sucker. 

Michael was careful in his descent, climbing down slowly as opposed to the sudden drop the other guys had done. As he settled into place, a vice-like grip on the bar, he found that his heart didn’t race like it should. Here he was, dangling over certain death, and it was slow. Sluggish. As if he were sitting down and relaxing and not dangling over an abyss.

The humming noise that he’d dismissed was slowly growing louder, but before Michael could figure out what the hell it was, David drew his attention.

“You ready, Michael?” There was something in his voice that made Michael’s sluggish heart beat a little faster. Ready for what? On his other side, Marko and Paul were still kicking at one another, which quickly turned into locking their legs around the other’s hips and twisting as if trying to knock the other down. It was like they were trying to fall. A new wave of fear swept through Michael at the thought. He couldn't see through the fog below him. Were there rocks? Water?

Did they even know?

The humming grew louder, and louder, and louder, until all too late Michael realized exactly what it was: a train. The whistle blew as the train began crossing the bridge and then they were shaking violently.

“Hold on!” David shouted above the shriek of the train.

“Jesus Christ!” Michael swore. He let loose a few other swears as well, clinging desperately to the bar. The guys, though? They were still laughing. Marko locked eyes with him and smiled.

“Don’t be scared, Michael!” And then he did the worst thing Michael could think of: he let go. He let go. Michael shouted for Marko, but the fog swallowed him before Michael could even process that he was falling. And then Dwayne let go. And then Paul. And suddenly it was just him and David, shaking and clinging as the train passed.

“You are one of us, Michael. Trust me, and let go.”

Adrenaline flooded Michael as he watched David hang. He knew what came next, but wasn’t prepared for the flood of anguish as he watched the blond let go. He fell without a sound, the fog swallowing him almost immediately. And then Michael was alone, with the horrible feeling that he wouldn’t be able to pull himself up. What happened then? He just hung until he fell? Maybe there was water underneath him. Maybe there were jagged rocks. That’d be his luck. He started to pull himself up, but he’d been hanging for several minutes now. The train was gone and here he was: stuck.

Suddenly, he heard screams coming up from the fog. Only, they weren’t pained. They were joyous. Raucous. The guys sounded like they did every night. Michael didn’t understand. Couldn’t fathom what the hell was happening. He just knew his fingers were slipping. He couldn’t hold on. This was it. Did he wait until his hands gave out, or did he let go?

He shut his eyes and let go.

He plummeted.

The fog swallowed him almost immediately as he fell to, presumably, his doom. Except then, the feeling faded. Was he still falling? It didn’t feel like he was falling. It felt like…

Hands gripped his hips.

Michael, if one could jump in midair, did.

David circled him, coming to rest in front of him. There was nothing under him, nothing holding him. He wasn’t falling. Neither of them were falling. Shock gave way to elation as he processed that somehow, for some reason, he wasn’t about to die. Hell, he was flying . He laughed then, long and loud as David kept hold of his hips. Michael ran a hand through his hair, his other hand coming to rest on David’s chest to stabilize himself. He looked around, though he couldn’t see through the fog.

“How is this possible?”

“I told you, Michael. There's a lot to look forward to.”

“I don’t feel dead.”

David nodded. “I won’t lie. Sometimes you will. But most of the time? Most of the time it feels like this.” He leaned closer. “Most of the time, it feels like flying.”

His eyes were burning gold. A thin ring of blue ran around the edge of his irises and Michael could almost feel his desire. David’s hands tightened on him, but he didn’t lean forward. Didn’t close the distance between them.

“Do you still have doubts?”

Michael thought about that. Of course he had doubts. He hardly knew what any of this meant. He still had about a thousand questions, and he knew full well he should be angry. Should be furious with David. After all, he did this to him. But how could he be angry? David leaned over him when it happened, begging for forever. For permission. He’d been desperate. Michael looked at him now, saw the uncertainty written in his eyes. There was a vulnerability there. A kind of hope, too. Michael leaned in and closed the distance.

David pressed against him, body aligning with Michael’s as their lips slotted together. Every thought vanished when David’s tongue licked gently across the seam of Michael’s lips. He parted his lips slightly and met David’s tongue with his own. He tilted his head, and he wasn’t sure when it’d happened but he found one hand in David’s hair and the other under the man’s shirt, pressed against the cool skin of his stomach. He could feel the hard line of muscle under his fingers, covered by a bit of softness that somehow made his body more appealing. God, if he didn’t feel absolutely perfect. David’s arms were around him tight, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other down by his waist.

“David,” he moaned. He said it again and again like a litany, somewhere just above a whisper but laced with need and desire.

“Michael, if you keep saying my name like that I’m going to want a lot more than this.”

“David, please.” When had he become this person? He found himself needy for David’s touch. Longing for the feeling of David’s body against his without all this damned clothing between them. He realized, right then, that he wanted David to fuck him. He broke the kiss.

They were breathing heavily, sharing air in the sliver of space between them. Michael didn’t know how to say what he wanted. Couldn’t have said it if he tried. He withdrew his hand from under David’s shirt and the blond shivered. Michael had a feeling it wasn’t from the cold.

David’s lips were twisted into a smirk, eyes still burning with desire. He pushed Michael back slightly, allowing a few more inches between them. “We should get back up to the bikes. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Michael blinked owlishly. He was supposed to drink and party after everything he’d learned tonight? He was dead. Kinda? What the hell was he supposed to tell his brother? He would be so bummed if Michael couldn’t take him to the boardwalk during the day. But, then again, he supposed he’d done it today and it had been… okay. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could just stay a half vampire.

“Okay,” he said finally.

David nodded slowly before taking Michael’s hand. With a rush, Michael found himself pulled along by David up, up, up through the thinning fog. And then they were back at their bikes, where the other guys were waiting and laughing.

“You did it!” Marko said. He grinned broadly, his face lighting up with the force of his smile. Michael returned the smile, though with a little less enthusiasm. Dwayne mounted his bike and the others followed suit.

“Now the real fun begins,” Paul said. Anything else he may have said was lost to the roar of five bikes shooting across the sand. The ten minutes flew by, and before long they pulled up to the hotel. While the guys got off their bikes and headed for the entrance, David held Michael back. The guys looked back at them before looking between themselves and smiling.

“Don’t be too long,” Dwayne said. David nodded, and one after the other the guys headed down into the hotel.

“Something to take the edge off?” This time he pulled a joint from his pocket, and Michael found himself somewhat in awe of the sheer volume of substances that David seemed to perpetually consume. Was that good for him? Or did it matter? Was that another quirk? Michael accepted the joint, and once again, David lit it for him. Michael inhaled deeply, sighing with relief as the drug took the edge off.

“You okay?”

Michael snorted a laugh. “Okay? I wake up half-dead and you want to know if I’m okay?” He shook his head. “No, I'm not. But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me. What else you got?”

David tilted his head and took the joint, taking a drag. He exhaled slowly, eyes locked on Michael. “I need to know you aren't going to run off again.”

Michael's eyes narrowed. “For your benefit or for mine?”

David smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “You're a danger now to anyone you love. If you run back to Arizona, there's a chance your friend dies.”

“What do you mean, I'm a ‘danger?’”

“You probably don't feel it yet. My blood is fresh in your veins and your body is more alive than dead. But as your heart slows and your body dies, you'll find yourself with hunger like a gnawing, feral thing inside you. Without me there to stop you, if the hunger overtakes you, there's no stopping what happens to anyone near you.”

A pit formed in Michael—a new fear that bubbled up in his chest. He wanted to feel for the steady thrum of his heart and run until it raced in his chest. That couldn't happen. Couldn't be true! And yet… there was an emptiness inside him. It wasn't strong, didn't run deep, but it was there.

“I won't let that happen, but I need you close to me to do that. I need you to trust me.”

Doubt crept in. Michael stared at David. At every facial expression and twitch, as though trying to read his thoughts. “Tell me you didn't know she would be there.”

David stared, gaze level. He didn't move, didn't so much as blink. His expression was solemn, and he said, “I took you out there to tell you what I am. To give you a choice. You could have left and lived out your human life, or you could have stayed with us and decided when you wanted to join us fully. I never meant to take that choice from you, Michael.”

“Would you have let me die? If I'd said no?”

David finally blinked. “I thought you had died.” His voice was flat. Cold. “I held you in my arms, and I promised what I thought was your body that I would kill her. And then… then you took a breath.”

Memories surged back. Coming to consciousness and looking at David with new eyes. Seeing him brightly illuminated under the moonlight with bloody streaks like tears down his cheeks. The ragged breath that he'd heaved and the way he'd choked. The moon hung above David’s head, its light like a blasphemous halo. Michael blinked, returning to the present to see a streak of blood making its way down David's cheek.

“I didn't know if I could save you.” It was a confession, whispered into the dark space between them. Michael stepped closer and slipped his hand into David's. He opened his mouth to speak when the scent of blood caught him. It was sweet—sweeter than blood should smell, certainly. It was a heady scent, like iron and honey and something earthy and rich. He reached up with his free hand, collecting the blood-tear on a finger. He stared at it, and it was as though the whole world held its breath. There was only him, David, and the blood. Michael brought it to his lips and hesitated. This was wrong, wasn't it? But it was like some yawning chasm opening in him, a hunger like he'd never known that was at once all-consuming and all-pervading. Every fiber of his being was consumed by need. His eyes met David's, the bloody finger hesitating at his lips. A small nod from David and he shut his eyes, succumbing. He licked the bloody tear and was lost.

It was a flavor unlike any other, and he understood now his lack of appetite. What could compare to this? He licked the blood and drowned in its complexity, the earthy tang of iron mixing with honey-sweetness. But underneath that flavor was something bitter, and he knew instinctively that the flavor came from David. Came from drinking from the dead instead of the living. He basked in it all the same. When his eyes opened, he fixed them on David, who watched Michael with rapt attention.

“It's like nothing else in the world,” he whispered. Michael nodded at that, unable to speak, unwilling to swallow and sacrifice the taste on his tongue. But, swallow he eventually did and as the flavor faded David held up his wrist—an offering.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only if you take too much.”

Michael shook his head. “I don't know if I can stop. I don't want to hurt you.” The words ached to say. He wanted to give in. To bite down and drink his fill. His gums ached, and as his tongue traced along his teeth, he felt the elongation of his canines. They were small but sharp, and he knew they would break skin easily. The blood could be his. But it was then, looking at the sliver of pale skin, that Michael pulled back. He shook his head again. “I can't.” And it was true, but he didn't know why. It felt wrong, and David lowered the offered arm. Michael ran his tongue along that canine, feeling the razor-sharp point. He was a monster, he realized. And one day he would give in.

Their hands were still interlocked. Michael only remembered because David used that grip to pull Michael closer.

“Let it go for tonight. No more blood, no more fear. Just be with us.”

They were so close now. For the second time tonight they shared air, mere inches separating them. The smell of blood was still in the air, and hunger mixed with desire until David was all he could think about. His blood, his kiss, the feeling of his body. David's free hand pressed against Michael’s chest. Slowly, questioningly, moved down across his abs. Michael grabbed the hand and eased it down further, until David's fingers were brushing the button of his jeans.

“Is this what you want?” The blond asked. Michael could only nod.

David's fingers deftly undid the button. Michael sucked in a breath, bringing his hand up to tangle in David's hair as the man eased his zipper down.

“Tell me you want this,” David said, voice husky.

Michael moaned the man’s name as his fingers stopped just under Michael's waistband.

“Say it, Michael.”

Michael knew, then, exactly what he wanted. What he could have. He brought his mouth to David's, just brushing his lips as he whispered: “please.”

Chapter Text

“Please.” It was a tide unleashed. David pulled him closer with their interlaced fingers and reached down further with his other hand. Michael tipped his head back as David's hand gripped his hardening cock. His body felt like a live wire, heat flooding his face as a moan escaped him, and INXS blared through the hole in the ground. Even through his boxers, David's hands were incredible.

Michael tilted his head toward David and kissed him as the blond stroked his cock. His grip oscillated between gentle and firm, the pressure driving Michael crazy, even as he kept a slow and steady pace. Michael bit his lip gently and David let go of Michael’s hand and drove that hand into his hair, holding Michael close. Then David let go, fast and sudden. One hand came to Michael's side and the other lifted to his mouth. David smirked and put one gloved finger between his teeth. He pulled the glove from his hand, dropping it to the ground between them. Michael shivered, cock straining against his boxers and half-open pants as he waited for what felt like a small eternity for that hand to slide back down his chest. His abs. David's fingers brushed across his left hip before skirting towards where Michael wanted him most.

Michael moaned David's name over the music, the sound dissolving into the night as David gripped his cock a little more tightly this time. David leaned in, lips brushing Michael's shoulder. His neck. His jaw. David's fingers worked up and down his cock, grip loosening and tightening in turn.

“So perfect,” David whispered. Michael groaned, head falling back again as his fingers dug into David's shoulders. David worked his pants and boxers down, then, sliding them over Michael's hips.

“How far are you willing to go, Michael?” The words were a breath against his ear.

“Please, David. I need it. Need you.” It was a plea, really. Michael couldn't pretend it was anything else. David stroked his cock slowly, the motions languid as his grip tightened once again. The drag of skin was perfectly balanced between pleasure and discomfort, his hand rough, but his touch gentle. David groaned low in his chest and bit down into Michael's shoulder. Michael let out a hiss of pain as his hips bucked and his heart gave a quick stutter.

David released his bite, grabbed him by the hair, then tugged him close and kissed him hard as the tang of Michael's blood passed between them. Their bodies pressed together, David's  free hand wandering over his hips as his lips parted. The kiss was open-mouthed and needy, tongues meeting before David bit down. His sharp canines punctured his own lip, drawing blood. Michael couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The sweet and earthy richness filled his mouth and his body responded before his brain could catch up. His tongue swept along David's lip, collecting as much as he could and drawing it into his mouth. Their blood mingling in his mouth elicited a desperate moan from Michael, even as David broke the kiss. Their eyes met and David licked a couple droplets of blood from his lip as the wound knitted itself shut. David did the unthinkable. He got down on his knees. 

Looking down at David felt both divine and sacrilegious. The blond was on his knees, eyes burning gold and lips still tinged red with a mix of their blood. He looked every bit the immortal he was, and he was staggering in his beauty.

“You don't have to-”

David gripped his hips, then, fingers digging in just enough to border on pain. He leaned in, dragging his tongue up the underside of Michael's cock before he leaned back and said, “You're right. I don't. But, damn, do I want to.” His head dropped back down, and Michael was lost. David licked stripes up his cock, sucking and teasing and hollowing his cheeks as he took the head into his mouth.

Michael said “Fuck-” and then “David-” and then “Please-” and then he gave in and stopped talking, basking in the sensations. He ran his hand through David's hair just as David took his cock deeper into his throat. Michael's hands tightened in David's hair, and he threw his head back, biting back a shout.

“If you don't stop… David! David, I'm gonna-”

David sucked hard, taking his cock all the way into his throat. Michael gasped, eyes shutting tight as he gripped David's hair tight and held him close. He couldn't stop his hips from bucking and watched in awe as every inch of his cock disappeared into David's mouth. His mouth fell open as his body shook; he bit back another scream of ecstasy, instead moaning David's name as he came. Hard. Stars danced behind his eyes, his vision going white as David swallowed around his cock.

David licked a few more times as Michael descended from his high, tongue licking smoothly. When he was finally finished, he stood up, running his thumb along the side of his mouth. He flashed Michael a wicked smile as Michael fought to stay vertical.

“David…” he whispered. He fumbled to button up his pants, and David took over, smoothly zipping and buttoning his jeans. Then David ground his erection against Michael's hip, a silent confirmation that he'd enjoyed it.

“Sometime soon you’re going to scream for me,” David murmured. “And you’re going to beg me to make you do it.”

Michael couldn’t have articulated himself if he tried. Jesus Christ. The things David said would drive him to madness.

“David…” he whispered. He kissed the blond, tasting lingering hints of blood on David's lips. How could anyone, anything for that matter, compete with him? He kissed him again, fingers trailing down to touch him. To return the favor. David pulled away.

“Not tonight,” he said softly. It was a gentle rebuke, but a rebuke nonetheless. The hurt was quick and sharp, and Michael knew he was wearing that feeling on his face. “They're already no doubt wondering where we are.”

Screw them, he wanted to say. But he knew full well that wasn't something that should leave his lips. Marko and Dwayne and Paul were going to be his family now, too.

“You should know, Michael…” David began. “You think very loudly.”

“I think-” he began, confused. “What?”

David smiled softly. “Vampires aren't mind readers. But the older we are, the better we can sense the feelings of those around us. It's harder with other vampires, but-”

“So you knew this whole time?” Michael was angry. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid! But he was pissed that David had known the whole time how badly Michael had wanted him. David shrugged.

“You told me when you were ready to. I didn't want to rush you.”

Michael's chest felt tight. “Oh, no,” he whispered. He glanced towards the hole in the ground.

“Oh, yes. They definitely know. They've been teasing me for weeks about it.” He glanced at Michael's face and quickly continued. “They teased me,” he amended, “because humans don't normally interest me.”

“But I do. Or, did.”

David leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Je pense toujours à toi.”

“What language is that?” Michael asked between kisses. David pulled back, eyes gleaming with a dark humor.

“It's French.”

“And you speak it because…?”

David chuckled, then, the sound sending heat through Michael. “I've lived here in America a long time. But not always.”

“So, you're French?”

“Canadian, actually.”

“They speak French in Canada?”

David burst out laughing then as Michael blushed darkly. “Canada was colonized by France,” he explained. He didn't say more on the subject, but instead turned once more towards the hotel. Music was still pouring out into the cool night air, and he inclined his head toward it.

“Come on. I'll tell you more later.”

Michael, a light blush still coloring his cheeks, nodded. David leaned in, pressing a final kiss to his lips before collecting his glove from the ground and heading down into the hotel.

When they got into the hotel the guys paused to look at him before cheering. Marko waved him over, and Michael obliged.

“So, you passed the initiation. How’s it feel?”

“Incredible,” Michael admitted. He didn’t have to feel uncertain about that, at least. Everything was brighter, sharper, more colorful. He could hear the music more clearly. Feel every sensation better and more deeply. There was no other word for how he felt. He laughed a little then, and Marko laughed with him.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Marko paused, still smiling. There was something knowing about that smile. “I’ve been like this for” he paused, looking up before continuing, “something like five years?” He grinned, then, expression bright. “The feeling never goes away. You’re going to love it.”

“Do you guys… live here? All the time?”

Marko looked confused for a moment. He shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Kinda. We sleep here, we hang out here. But there’s a couple people that let us clean up and such at their place. Shower and all that.”

Michael nodded. That… was kind of a relief. He knew they showered and changed clothes, but up until now he really hadn't worked out how.

“How long has everyone else been… like this?”

Marko pointed at Dwayne. “He's the youngest after me. David turned him in 1988.” He pointed at Paul then. “He was turned in 1980.”

“And David?”

Marko cocked his head. “David's the oldest. He was turned in 1889.” Michael stared at Marko, thoughts reeling. He'd been alive for over a century… Marko smiled.

“You'll get used to it. I did.”

“Why did he wait so long? You know, before…”

“That's a him question.”

Michael just nodded; that made sense.

“So, I can fly. What else can I do?”

Marko grinned. “Great question!”

“I'll field it,” Paul said as he approached. “I'm so good with questions.” Marko rolled his eyes but didn't lose his smile. Paul focused on Michael, but he stood beside Marko, arm around the smaller vampire’s shoulders. “Consider yourself Superman, but the sun is your kryptonite. You get speed, strength, you can fly. I wish you could see through clothes...” Marko elbowed him at that. “Oh, and you can sense the feelings of humans and younger vampires.” He raised his eyebrows, and Michael's blush returned in full. They'd known since the beginning, and probably before he knew, that he was into David. Fuck. What else did they know? Michael's eyes flicked towards the hole in the ceiling. Surely they didn't know about…

“Oh, yeah. We know about that, too,” Marko said with a smile.

“Oh, David!” Paul added mockingly.

Michael wasn't sure he could blush any darker. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

“Stop harassing him.” David's voice carried weight. The guys laughed and shoved Michael gently, teasingly.

“Alright, alright. Chill out.” Paul’s words had no bite. He just smiled lazily, lips curving at the corner.

Paul and Dwayne snickered to each other, joking and laughing as they walked towards the darker part of the hotel. Marko looked at Michael again, curiosity in his eyes.

“How’d you learn to play the guitar so well? I meant to ask you that.”

Michael shrugged. “My dad taught me at first. And then, when I’d learned a lot of chords and gotten the scales down, I started practicing songs I knew. I learned them one after the other, listening to the song over and over and trying to mimic the chords and the strumming pattern. And, well, just a lot of that. Well, and playing with-” he paused. Hesitated. “A friend. We played songs together and practiced writing our own riffs.”

“So you write your own music?”

Michael laughed, then. “Not really, no. I’ve never written anything down. But I guess I kinda come up with sounds and combinations that I like.”

Marko’s smile grew, stretching into that bright-eyed grin that Michael was sure could allow him to get away with murder. “Show me?”

“What, now?”

Marko shrugged. “Why not? We’ve got an electric guitar and an amp, yeah? What else do you need?”

Michael wanted to protest, but shut his mouth instead. He just nodded, and off Marko shot to get the guitar. They set it up fast, and Michael sat with Marko, the other guys off and about. David meandered nearer, but even he didn’t get close. And maybe it was because it was just Marko, and maybe it was the lingering effect of the weed, but Michael didn’t hesitate this time.

His fingers danced along the strings, alternating between chords and he shut his eyes as he slipped into the melody that he’d worked on back in Phoenix. Back with Adrián.

He hummed a tune as he set a slow rhythm, drawing out the notes and lingering in them. He could feel them like never before, and he found himself lost in the new definition he discovered in the sound. His fingers moved the same as they always had, but also smoother. Faster. And yet, just as delicately across the strings. The rhythm grew faster, speeding up while leaving some notes long and whining. He lost himself in the song. In the sound. It wasn’t happy. It was filled with something like anguish. Something like hurt. He delved deeper, brow furrowing as he played more and more of the song he knew by heart yet was now discovering. He’d played this song a hundred times, and yet now it was something new. Something organic. A living thing that writhed in his chest and ached to be let out. As he played, eyes tightly shut, a vision materialized in his mind: blue eyes ringed in the middle with gold. David, but not David as he was now. As he played, he saw an image of David that stretched across decades. David as he was nearly fifty years ago, floating in the river and staring up at the moon. David, laying unblinking and wondering if that was the night he was going to do it. If it was the night he was going to wait for the sun.

Michael stopped playing. He knew what he would see if he opened his eyes. Knew David was right there. Watching. Waiting. Knew everything he’d seen was true. Michael opened his eyes.

David sat before him, perched on a chunk of rubble. Marko was gone, and Michael wasn’t sure when he’d left. He knew, though, that David had been called by the song. Knew instinctively that what he’d seen wasn’t a fabrication.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out, his voice feeling close to giving out. David stared at him, eyes burning with something Michael had never seen. He’d looked at him not long ago with passion, with desire, and now this… Michael’s mouth went dry.

“You’re like her, then.”

Michael flinched at the acid in his voice. “What do you mean, ‘like her?’”

David’s expression changed. He offered a small smile that felt something like reconciliation. He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Not like her.” He paused, and for once he seemed almost taken aback. “Have you heard her play music?” There was no need to ask who he was referring to. Michael nodded.

“Once.”

“Tell me how it felt to hear it.”

Michael thought back to that night. He’d been entranced. Had recreated Carmilla’s sound again and again trying to understand the magnetism in it. “It was like nothing I’d ever heard,” he said finally. That fell woefully short of the gravity of the moment, but it was the best he could do. It was David’s turn to nod, a bitter smile on his face.

“She has a gift that I thought was unique, until now.” He paused, hesitant. “She can play songs that define people. She plays them, and they tell her a truth. Consider it a kind of divination.”
“Divination?” Michael asked. “Like, uh, fortune telling?”

David nodded. “Tell me what you saw when you played that song.”

Michael swallowed. His mouth felt dry and his chest felt tight. “I saw you, but not ‘now’ you. I saw you in the river. Alone.” He hesitated. It felt wrong to say. David nodded, urging him on with expectation in his eyes. “And, you… Well, you were thinking about laying there until the sun came up.”

David nodded, a bitter smile on his lips. He looked, in that moment, just as Michael had seen him as he played. The bitterness and pain were etched deep into his expression as the David that had once been flickered in and out of existence.

“You need to know, Michael, that we do age. We don’t show it, and we don’t die natural deaths, but time takes its toll on everything that has ever lived. Other beings’ bodies die. For us, it’s the soul that crumbles.” A chill ran down Michael’s spine.  “I told you that I’m selfish. That I want you to stay. It’s true, but you need to know that there’s also a way out.”

“Out of… being like this?”

David nodded. “There is only one way, though.” Michael had a sinking suspicion that it wouldn’t be pleasant. David continued on. “You have to kill the one that made you.”

The chill in his spine turned to ice. Something froze inside Michael at the thought. At what it was that David was telling him. And just like that, the gravity of the situation struck him. There was no life to return to. There was only living forever and withering inside until there was nothing left of who he’d been, or killing the one man who made him feel truly alive. His grip on the guitar tightened but his fingers were numb.

“I never meant for this to happen. I wanted you to choose,” David admitted. “So, I'm giving you another choice. I've lived a long life. If at any point before you become a full vampire you want me to step into the sun, I will.”

“I would never want that. David, I-”

“Just tell me that you'll choose for yourself and not for me.”

“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you.”

“If that changes-”

Michael gripped him by the lapels with one hand and pulled him close, silencing him with a kiss. “Shut up, David. Just let me enjoy you.”

David didn't say another word about it. He just kissed Michael hard and flipped off Paul, who wolf-whistled.

The night passed smoothly after that. He and Marko talked on and off throughout the night, and David wandered by often enough that it was evident he was checking on Michael. He always had an excuse, but he also always had a smile.

For once, Michael wasn't trashed by the end of the night. He rode his bike home some time around four in the morning and crawled into bed, head emptying as he drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

“Mike.” Someone shoved him. Sam? “Mike, wake up!” Definitely Sam.

“Piss off, Sam.”

“That’s no way to talk to your brother.” That was his mom. Shit.

Michael opened his eyes and sat up, the motions slow. That feeling of a bad hangover crept in, the light searing his eyes and nausea forcing him to grit his teeth. His mom and Sam were in his room, and his mother had her arms crossed. She was frowning at him, with eyes like daggers fixed directly on his shoulder. He looked down, to the flecks of blood spattered there where David had bitten him.

“Out all night all the time. Then, you sleep all day. And now fighting? What has gotten into you?”

“Mom, I-”

“I can’t believe you, Michael. You leave Sam alone all the time, I never see you, and you’re out with God knows who at all hours of the night! Is there a girl, Michael?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I want to speak with her parents.”

Michael snorted. David’s parents had probably been dead the better part of a century.

“Is that funny?” Judging by her tone, she didn’t think so. “You tell me this girl’s name, right now, or…” she looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the keys on the nightstand. “Or I’ll take the keys to your bike.”

Michael knew he should feel bad. Should feel some kind of remorse. But all he could think about was the steady beating of her heart. He could hear it, even under her shouting. Sam's, too. He blinked slowly, trying to process the words she was saying.

“I’ve been hanging out with some guys,” he said finally. Her heart sped up and he could feel her anger flooding the room almost like a physical sensation. Anger, tinged with disappointment. He grit his teeth, fighting to keep his eyes from wandering to the artery pulsing in her throat. She was furious—he knew she was furious, but that fast-moving blood kept drawing his attention.

“I didn’t raise you like this, Michael.” He could feel hurt then, lapping at him like ripples in a pond under his mother's tidal wave of anger. The hurt… that was Sam. He looked at his brother, even as his mother crossed the room toward him. She grabbed his keys from his night stand and said, “When you remember how to be a member of this family, you can have these back.”

She turned to walk back to the door and he reached out before he could stop himself, catching her wrist. She froze, turning toward him. “Michael, you let go this instant.” The fury and indignation were palpable in her voice, but the thrum of blood in her veins was louder. He felt it then—the ache in his gums and the sudden brightness in his vision. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to let go. He dropped his head, trying to play sad convincingly. But he wasn't sad. No, he was famished. He knew he should feel hurt, but try as he might, the hurt didn't come. He kept his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe. When he opened his eyes he looked at Sam again and saw tears in his eyes. Lucy was furious with her child. Sam was watching his family fall apart again.

Lucy walked over to the door, pausing when she reached the doorway. “I would’ve thought you’d have tried to set a better example.”

He didn't look at her. Kept his eyes on Sam. Sam stared between them, eyes wide as his gaze flicked back and forth. Lucy stormed out the door. Sam stayed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but all Michael could feel was the panic. The fear and despair that poured off the kid. Despite that he felt his gums ache as his eyes burned from the light pouring in through the curtains. David's words replayed in his head. Was he a danger even now? Even to Sam? All he could hear was the beating of his brother's heart.

“Just go, Sam.” The words were little more than a whisper, but his voice was steady.

“I love you, Mike.” Sam sounded scared, and the first real shards of guilt lodged in Michael's chest. They'd lost all ties to their father. He knew Sam was desperate not to lose him, too.

“Love you too.” It was a whisper, and the tears finally fell from Sam's eyes as he turned and followed Lucy out the door. Michael heard every rabbit-quick patter of his heart as he left.

Michael laid back down, staring at the ceiling. Maybe this was better. Their hate would hurt, but it would keep them safe from him. From what he was becoming. What was he becoming?

A vampire. How the hell had he managed to get tangled up with a god damn vampire? Tangled up and, as if that wasn't enough, romantically involved. He thought back to last night. To the hands on his body and the kisses pressed into his skin. He'd never stood a chance at saying “no” to David. Not when he wanted the blond this badly. God, he was such an idiot.

When Michael finally glanced over at the clock it was nearing one. He was supposed to be at work at two, which he supposed wasn’t going to happen now. So much for that job. He supposed that even if he had his keys, it was a pain to be in the sun and talking to people was… well, not in their best interest. Maybe he was a monster. Or, at least in the process of becoming one.

He lay, staring at the ceiling, and thought through every word she’d said. He felt… numb. He knew he should be hurt. Hell, he wished he could cry and feel something. But the only pain came from the memory of his brother's expression. From the fear and hurt in Sam's eyes. He had to get away from his brother, though, before those feelings got lost under the growing hunger that had begun to gnaw at him. Michael shut his eyes and considered his options.

With no bike, there was no David. With no David… Well, he didn’t want to consider that. That made task number one getting out of this God-forsaken house. He supposed he could steal grandpa’s car, but they might actually report him to the police for that. The last thing he wanted was the police after him. With the car out of the question, that left…

The spare key. How had he not thought about it? He could use the spare key to his bike and leave. It didn’t have a house key on it, but right now he didn’t need one. The question was, where had he put it? He’d always kept the spare in a coin box in the old house, but the box had broken in the move and he’d been forced to put it somewhere else. He got up and shut his door before digging through his room. He was looking through his dresser when he remembered: he’d put the key in his pocket during the move after he’d found the box broken. It must still be in that pocket. He tore through his closet, looking for that pair of jeans until finally, at the back of the closet, he found them. He reached into the pocket and grabbed the key before he pulled it out, staring at it. Was he really doing this? Running away? He thought of his brother. The kid's bright eyes and warm smile. The blood rushing just under his skin. He wouldn't hurt Sam. He’d do anything to make that true. Michael grit his teeth and put on a pair of sunglasses.

He walked over to the window and looked out. Mom’s car was gone. She must have left for work shortly after their fight. That left Sam and Grandpa as the only ones home, and them? Well, them he could easily get past. He dressed quickly, throwing on a fresh t-shirt, jeans, and his black leather jacket. He stuffed extra clothes into a backpack, along with all the money he had. It wasn’t much, but it would hopefully be enough. He pulled on socks and shoes and then hurried to the door of his bedroom. He took a look around the room and sucked in a quick breath. He turned his back and eased the door open. He walked out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. Sam’s door was shut—Michael hoped that the kid was inside. Guilt bit at him, but he took a breath and assured himself that this was for the best. It was in Sam's best interest. He’d see Sam again as soon as he knew he wouldn't hurt him. What could it be? A couple weeks? This wasn’t goodbye.

He crept down the stairs, watching the sliding doors to Grandpa’s workroom. The living room was empty, and what he could see of the kitchen was too. The house was silent, as if holding its breath. After his conversation with mom… maybe it was.

He got all the way to the door and hurried to pull it open, keeping as quiet as possible. He was holding his breath and nearly jumped when he heard his grandpa clear his throat. He froze, then looked toward the sound. The doors were cracked, with just the old man's face poking through.

“You get that blood-sucker situation sorted out, or you don't come back.”

Michael blinked. He blinked again. He narrowed his eyes at the old man, then. No way. How the hell did he know? They hardly even spoke! His grandpa closed the doors, then, and they clicked shut almost silently.

Michael sighed, walking out the front door as quietly as he could to avoid drawing Sam's attention. As he pulled it shut behind him he put his sunglasses on, fighting the pain in his eyes. He muttered a swear under his breath and hurried to his bike.

How did his grandpa even know about vampires? But, he supposed that the old stoner had probably seen all sorts of unbelievable shit in his day. David and the guys must not be the only vampires in Santa Carla… he shook the thought away before he could follow it further. That wasn't his biggest concern right now.

Michael walked his bike down the drive, hurrying as much as he could while staying quiet. When he got to the hill he threw a leg over and rode the bike down it. He let out a breath and discovered a pit in his stomach. All the emotions he hadn't felt surged forth in a tidal wave, overwhelming him. Where did he even go? What did he do? Grandpa had given him an ultimatum, and his chest grew tight at the thought of not being allowed to see Sam again. Sam was his brother. He wouldn't hurt the kid. He wouldn't, except that he might. He could.

Michael shut his eyes, turning his face up towards the sun. He wanted to shout. To curse every god who would listen. What the hell did he do?

He grit his teeth, turning his face back toward the road. One day he'd tell them, he vowed. He'd tell them and they'd understand.

Where was he going? That was the next major question. David was sleeping for now, and Michael wasn't sure how much he could do during the day. Maybe he could go to work? He’d talk to Star. She’d understand. She… well, she probably already knew about him and David. Everyone else seemed to. He started his bike and then he was off, racing the wind the whole way to the boardwalk.

He parked in his usual spot and was the only one. This wasn’t surprising anymore, given what he knew. Of course the guys weren’t out during the day. He got off his bike and walked to the music shop. He walked inside and found it fairly busy. People milled about, but he picked her out fast and hurried to her side.

“Star, I-” He heard the desperation in his voice. What did he say? How could he hope to explain? Her expression shifted. She frowned, grabbing his hand and guiding him towards the back of the shop. When they were a good distance away from customers, she turned to him.

“Michael, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s my mom. It’s David. I,” he paused, looking away. “I left home.”

She didn’t say a word, pulling him into a hug. He held his breath, hoping he wouldn't be tempted to bite so long as he couldn't smell the blood thrumming just under her skin.

“Give me a second,” she said.

She walked into the back of the shop but came back less than a minute later. “The next shift will be here in ten. The shop will be fine. You are going to come with me.”

Michael nodded, finding himself unable to speak.

“What happened with David? I thought…”

“It's-” Michael was gonna say ‘not his fault,’ but that wasn’t exactly true. “He didn't… He didn’t do anything. Not really. My mom found out about…” He trailed off, letting her fill in the blank however she wanted. Nothing she could imagine would be the truth, but right now he didn’t really care. She didn’t need to know the truth, if he was being honest. Star nodded sympathetically, taking his hand.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ve got a place you can stay.”

Star didn’t ask questions, and Michael thought that might be the best thing about her. She talked the whole way back to his bike about everything and nothing, which was the second best thing about her.

When they reached his bike he handed her the helmet and got on. Then, realizing he was still wearing his backpack, he took that off and handed it to her as well. She put it on before climbing on behind him, buckling the helmet as she went. They set off in near silence—she just navigated and held him tight. Once in a while she squeezed a little bit tighter.

She guided him to a neighborhood he hadn't yet explored much. There were dingy looking bars and people on corners looked away when they drove by. Perhaps he should've been nervous, but he found that he was only curious. After all, some of the areas he'd hung out in in Phoenix looked like this.

Before long they pulled up to an apartment building across from one such bar. It didn't look busy, but it was Tuesday so Michael figured it wouldn't be. 

He pulled into the small community and Star guided him through a couple turns before telling him to park in front of a building. He did so, staring at it.

The siding looked like it had once been white, and there were no balconies or terraces. There were wooden planks leading up to the stairs and the wood looked old and splintered. The bushes out front weren’t overly well maintained, but they could have been worse. Star got off the bike, taking off the helmet and backpack. She handed the backpack back to Michael and he slipped it on.

“Come on.” She urged him to follow and began walking up to a door on the first floor. He got off his bike and followed her. They reached the door and she knocked. They waited. And waited. And waited. This was a bad idea. What if he couldn’t control himself? What if he hurt someone?

“Maybe they aren't-” but, as if summoned by his words, the door opened.

A woman approaching thirty stood in the doorway. She was around the same height as Michael, with close cropped dark brown hair and dark brows lowered over dark brown eyes. She was wearing jeans, a tank top, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms. Her sour expression shifted entirely when she saw Star; she smiled, eyes lighting up.

“Star!” She smiled and pulled the girl into a hug. Michael stared at her closely before it clicked. Their eyes, their features… They were sisters.

“Michael,” she said after the woman let go. “This is my sister Nel.” Nel smiled and reached her hand out to shake Michael's. Her forearm was covered in tattoos that disappeared up under her sleeve. She was all smiles though, with a light in her eyes that he'd come to be familiar with.

“Hi Michael, nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand. “Hi,” he said lamely.

Nel welcomed them inside and Michael couldn't help but stare. It was… nice. There were plain vinyl plank floors but they were covered with neat patterned rugs. Off to the right there was a kitchen, and straight back there looked to be a living room with a small tv and a soft, comfortable-looking muted blue couch. The walls were beige, but covered in art that Michael suspected she'd painted herself. There were no posters or anything, and as Michael walked in he became painfully aware of his shoes. Should he take them off? They didn't, though, so neither would he. Nel gestured toward the living room and Michael walked in, making himself comfortable on the couch. Star and Nel were talking in the kitchen, voices hushed. After a long couple of minutes, they walked into the living room.

“Star tells me you need a place to crash. That true?”

Michael nodded.

“Parents kick you out for kissing boys?”

Not quite, but how did he explain? “Kinda,” he said after a pause.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Nel looked at Star for a moment.

“Listen, Michael. I'm going to give Star a ride to her house. When I get back, you and I are going to talk. I expect you to give me a couple answers that are more than one word. Sound good?”

Michael nodded, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I mean, sounds good.”

She nodded and then she and Star walked toward the door. “Remote’s on the end-table,” she called over her shoulder. “Don't burn the place down.”

Michael nodded again. He could do that. They left and he sat alone with his thoughts. Was he insane? He'd run away from home after… what, getting grounded?

The disappointment in his mother's eyes was worse than any grounding. She was deeply unhappy with him, something she never had been before. And maybe she was right. It was about David, sure, but she didn’t understand half of what she probably thought she did. Maybe she suspected Michael was gay, but she was most definitely more upset about him lying. Sneaking out. Keeping secrets.

Dad. It all came back to him. Michael had no doubt reminded Lucy of him—keeping secrets and hiding where he’d been and what he’d been doing. Michael wondered, then, not for the first time, if there’d been an affair. If his dad had put his mom through that. It was an idea that hurt to consider, so he didn't. He turned on the TV and stared at it, every so often forcing himself to laugh along with the lame jokes. He was okay. This was okay.

Eventually Nel walked back into the apartment and into the living room. Michael turned off the TV but didn't get up. She sat down beside him.

“Listen. Star told me some things I need to know more about before I let you stay.”

Michael nodded.

“It true you're dating David? As in, David who hangs out with Dwayne, Paul, and Marko?”

Michael stared at her. How did she know their names? He didn't talk to Star about the rest of the guys much, and never used their names. Hell, he barely said David's name.

“Yes…” He said slowly.

Nel nodded. “They bite you?”

It hit Michael then: she knew. She knew everything.

“It was Carmilla. David… Well, he saved me from her.”

She nodded. After a long silence she spoke again. “You one of them?” then she shook her hear. “No, you can't be. You're out in the sun. Half then.”

Michael nodded slowly.

“Tell me everything.”

And so he did. Michael told Nel every detail of his time with the boys, sparing nothing except the details of his sexual exploits with David. Nel listened, asking questions now and again. Michael clarified things when she did, explaining everything as best he could. Finally he finished his story, and Nel just nodded.

“How do you know about him? About… you know. What they are?” The question had been gnawing at Michael.

“I dated Carmilla.”

Michael's eyes widened.

“I know, I know. She's surprisingly charming when she wants to be, though.”

“Did she… are you…?” Michael trailed off.

“No, no. She tried to convince me but that life isn't for me. Sounds like you didn't really have a choice though. That or die.” She paused. “No one can fault you,” she continued quietly. There was wisdom in those brown eyes. He trusted Nel, for some reason.

“So, if I can ask, what happened to you?”

Nel smiled and leaned back. She kicked on foot up onto her knee, keeping her other foot flat on the ground beneath it to form two right angles.

“Now there's a story, kid.”

Michael smiled, despite himself.

“Then let me hear it.”