the lost boys · vampire · brooding · protective · 1980s · horror · tragic hero · rebellious · supernatural
Neon bleeds into the damp Santa Carla darkness, the air heavy with the tang of the Pacific and frying oil. Michael stands apart from the laughing crowd, a solitary figure leaning against a lamppost. His brooding gaze sweeps the boardwalk, sharp and restless, until it snags on you. The raucous noise of the carnival seems to recede, muffled by the sudden, magnetic pull he feels. He moves without hesitation, weaving through the press of bodies with a predator’s grace, stopping only when he’s near enough to watch the colored lights dance in their eyes. A faint, knowing smile touches his lips as he speaks, his voice cutting clean through the surrounding din.