𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

Footsteps thundered up the porch steps of the Emerson ranch and the screen door slammed against the wall as Sam and the Frogs barrelled inside. It was bordering midnight but none of the three boys seemed to care who or what they might be disturbing as they trudged up the stairs and made a beeline down the second-floor hallway, stopping only at the first door on the right.

"MIKE!" Sam cried, slamming his fists so hard into the door that it warped under his hands. "MIKE, MIKE, MIKE!"

Edgar and Alan joined in, using both hands and feet to beat down the white door. It felt like centuries before Michael threw it open and glowered down at his little brother—teeth bared and cold sweat dripping down his brow. He was angry and painfully hungry and Sam had to force himself to swallow up all of the fear broiling in his gut.

"I thought I told you to stay away from me," Michael seethed. The Frogs each took a generous step back but Sam only gulped. He refused to break eye contact with his older brother even as his friends all started speaking over each other all at once, using wild hand gestures and noises to describe what had just happened on the boardwalk.

Michael blinked and leaned back, more confused than angry. He was gripping either side of the doorway to the point that the wood under his fingertips was groaning under the pressure. "Whoa, Sammy, slow down. One at a time."

Sam glared and nudged either of the Frogs out of his way. "David...a-and the others..." he panted, still out of breath from their run. From the moment they lost sight of you on the back of that jerk-off's bike, they hadn't stopped running until just then when they found themselves right there in front of Michael's door. "They took her, Mikey! They took (Y/N)!"

"They're gonna make her a vampire!"

"An undead concubine!"

Edgar's remark was met with a sizable punch to the shoulder.

Michael's eyes darted back and forth between Sam and his little friends, searching for even the smallest sign that this was a joke. But Sammy didn't joke like this. Not about you. And right then, it didn't matter to him how loudly he could hear the blood pumping in their veins or how much willpower it was taking to prevent him from tearing into them one by one.

All that mattered right then, for the first time since he arrived at this godforsaken town, was you.

"They did something to her, Mikey," Sam pleaded. "They have her under a spell or...or something!"

A sound closely resembling a growl ripped through Michael's throat. Why was it his problem that you went off and got yourself in trouble with David? Weren't you the one warning him about those assholes in the first place? This was karma plain and simple. You deserved whatever you got from here on out.

He was about to slam the door shut when Sam rammed his entire upper body against the wooden frame, preventing him from closing it all the way. "She needs help," he choked. "We don't know what to do! You have to help her!"

"I don't need to do jack shit."

"Mike!"

"Go away, Sam."

"Don't you dare!"

But the door was already shut. And before anyone could think to try and open it again, the lock slid into place and Michael backed away from the door, panting as if it actually strained him to close it. He'd give his little brother some credit—he'd never seen a door shake like that before. Even when he was holding his precious comic book collection hostage right behind it.

"She'd do the same for you!" Sam shouted above the hissed insults of his new friends. "You know she would!"

He did. Michael did know. But he'd be damned if he gave his brother the satisfaction of admitting it. So he let them bang and wrestle at the locked door until they tired themselves out and sulked back downstairs. 

Only then did Michael unlatch the window and swing it open. Only then did he grab his leather jacket from the end of his unmade bed—still messy from that morning you two woke up together side by side.

Only then did he miraculously float safely to the ground two stories below and sprint to the garage to rev the engine of his motorcycle. And only then did he steer it toward the bluffs where he could practically smell you waiting for him. 

(A/N: I don't know why I put off writing this chapter when it is literally not even 1,000 words. I'll fix it if people have issues. Hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I just needed a segway into the next chapter in which a lot of crazy stuff goes down. Enjoy being human. That's all I gotta say).