𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

The boardwalk was just as chaotic as it was the first time you saw it up close. Most of the tourists had gotten their fill of Santa Carla (and its one redeeming quality) and moved on to greener pastures.

If only you could have been so lucky.

Paul snuck away to the back alleys to pickpocket some poor unfortunate soul for cotton candy money. The rest of you—Dwayne, Marko, and yourself—were wandering aimlessly down the creaky wooden paths. David insisted on staying back at the cave with Star, who was just then putting Laddie to bed.

Something about David didn't sit right with you. The power that he held over the others was like a piece of meat dangling from a hook. He looked at you like he couldn't stand the reflection of himself in your eyes—as if you'd hung the moon in the sky and tore it back down over and over again.

Aside from the screaming of carnival-goers, it was nearly silent between the three of you. Usually, Paul filled the void with snarky comments and sexual innuendos. Without him, it was both peaceful and dreadfully quiet.

At one point you'd grabbed Dwayne's hand in the crowd and just never let go. His grip was strong, but not enough to hurt you. Perfect for guiding you around large groups and through tight spaces. Technically, the boys were banned from the boardwalk and everything on it, so you had to weave in and out of the main stretch to avoid being spotted by security.

"Have you guys noticed anything strange about Michael lately?" You asked, twirling a finger through the silver chain around your neck.

The boys stiffened on either side of you. They shared a knowing look over your head that didn't go unnoticed. "No..." Marko said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer. "Why'd you ask?"

"I dunno," you shrugged, swinging yours and Dwayne's hands in the air between you. His strong fingers flexed against your palm. "He was just being weird yesterday."

"Weird how?"

You stopped walking now and the boys were looming over you, concern swirling in their stern gazes.

"...I dunno," you parroted nervously, suddenly regretting that you ever asked. "Just...weird."

Dwayne's jaw clenched and he crouched down to your eye level. Part of you was offended. I'm not that short, asshole. "He hasn't touched you or anything, has he?"

"What?" You sputtered. "No! Definitely not. He's just..." you thought for a second. Why were you so worried about Michael again? It's not like you were to blame for his pissy attitude.

"...He's so angry all the time and he never eats but...he always looks so hungry."

Hungry.

It wasn't hatred that swarmed in his beautiful chestnut eyes whenever he spotted you. It was hunger. And that fact was infinitely more terrifying.

"Can you blame him?" Marko snorted, bending down to whisper into the shell of your ear. "You're a treat, babe."

This comment was received with a smack across the back of the head. You hid your giggles against Dwayne's side while the two bickered.

Thousands of questions were dancing on the tip of your tongue, but Paul rounded the corner waving a fifty-dollar bill before you could even think to voice them. "Bummed this off some hippie with a guitar," he bragged. "We've got ten minutes tops before he realizes it's gone."

☽   ☽   ☽

The ocean crashed against the pillars of the boardwalk. You dangled your legs over the railing, one hand cupping a tuft of cotton candy while the other held the bag open on your lap. Dwayne stood in front of you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He tried to play it off cool, but you knew he was trying to make sure you weren't going to fall back into the sand.

Paul and Marko were messing around in front of you; wrestling and chasing after each other, getting in everyone's way—as per usual. It was like watching two lion cubs roughhousing in a safari documentary. Every so often they would break away from their fight and steal some cotton candy from your lap.

"You don't have the California accent," you observed, kicking your legs back and forth. Dwayne tilted his chin to let you know he was listening and not just watching the boys try and recreate the catch from Dirty Dancing. "Where are you from?"

He huffed, and you knew that whatever the answer was, he would tell you that it was a long story. Even if the story wasn't even that long; only complicated.

"Everywhere," he replied with a shrug, shooting you a sideways smirk. "And nowhere."

"Is that where you're all from?" You asked, pulling a small tuft of cotton candy out of the bag and holding it out to him. "Nowhere?"

Dwayne craned his neck to bite it out of your outstretched hand, looking you dead in the eyes the entire time. "Sure."

"Sure?"

He chuckled at your frustrated expression and rolled his shoulders back against the railing. "David found all of us a long time ago," he said. His eyes instantly glazed over and you could pinpoint the exact moment he left Santa Carla to return to this moment in time. "He's good at that. Good at finding people."

You didn't want to pry, but you were insatiable for answers. "Where did he find you?"

Dwayne hesitated and you dropped another handful of cotton candy into his leather-gloved hand. "Texas."

"So you're from Texas."

An amused grin flashed across his face and his shoulders shook as he laughed. "You've got a lot to learn, princess."

Your eyebrows furrowed together but before you could retaliate, Paul manifested at your side and was burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. "Party's over, guys. I saw that hippie asking for me down by concessions."

You didn't have to ask for help because he'd already picked you up by your waist and lowered you down onto the sandy concrete. Before letting you go, Paul licked a long blue stripe down your cheek, making you squirm and fight away from his hold. "You are disgusting."

"Maybe," he purred, watching you wipe it off with the sleeve of your cardigan with sick pride. "Want a ride home, babycakes?"

"Only if you never call me that ever again."

You took the same alleyways back toward the entrance. They were wide enough to allow you to walk comfortably in between Dwayne and Marko while Paul swaggered further ahead, leading the way under dim lamplight.

It wasn't until you were passing underneath the arched entrance that you bothered to turn back and take a look at the structure as a whole. This is the place Mr. E warned me about? You thought to yourself, effectively blocking out the shouting of the boys as they argued over who was riding with who. The boardwalk was harmless. As long as you had your boys there to protect you.

What was the worst that could happen?

(A/N: I want to add my own personal headcanons for the boys and their backstories but I think I'll just find a way to work it into the plot over time. Thanks for reading! Lemme know if you catch any mistakes in this chapter).