Here's your fanfic boys!
Thump, thump. That was all that could be heard coming out of the bedroom on the second floor. Dim light shone through the slightly closed blinds, a musty air surrounded the room. Clothes left unfolded lay on the floor, along with numerous CDs, pencils, and shoes. A boy lay on an unmade bed, tossing a ball at the wall. Lucke was absolutely bored. He tossed the ball again, only this time a little too hard and it rolled across the floor to the far side of the room. With a heavy sigh, Lucke lifted his small frame off the bed. His messy brown hair shaded bold, intelligent hazel eyes. As Lucke walked over to retrieve the ball, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled out his aging iPhone to look at the text, "Ran into traffic. Be home soon. Love you." Lucke replied back to his mother with "K," and flopped on his bed. He let his mind roam as to the events of the past couple of days. His family moved to their new home in Tall Oaks, Michigan just a couple months ago. Lucke, age 17 and a half he liked to claim, left behind friends, family, and even a pet dog. Lucke missed his home of Old Creek, Kentucky, but his parents insisted that life would be better here. His dad got a new job at an accounting firm, and his mom found herself working in a local nursing home. School had yet to start up and Lucke didn't get out of the house much, so hanging out with friends wasn't a possibility.
Lucke got off the bed and decided to go downstairs to watch television. As Lucke descended the creaky stairs of the old Victorian house, a knock suddenly came to the door. As Lucke hit the bottom step, the knocking became an incessant pounding. Fear started to rise in Lucke's chest at the sound. What the hell is that? Lucke thought to himself. He ran to the dining room and stopped in front of the grandfather clock. The tall, luminous clock read 11:59 PM as he reached inside the glass casing and pulled out a small pistol. The cold metal of the Colt .45 felt heavy in Lucke's hands. He crept to the door as the pounding grew louder and more furious. Inches from the door, it suddenly burst open and a figure flew inside. Lucke ran to close the door and turned to point the gun at the figure. The hunched, still form lay in the middle of the floor. Lucke, gun still focused on the figure, crept closer to it. As Lucke got closer, he noticed that the figure was a boy, not much older than he. The messy brown hair was reminiscent of his own, but the piercing, pale blue eyes shot through Lucke like lightning. The boy groaned, and Lucke noticed a dark liquid creeping from underneath him. "Oh shit! You're bleeding," Lucke exclaimed as he rushed over to help the boy. Lucke rolled him onto his back and rushed to get medical supplies from the bathroom. Lucke returned to find the boy unconscious, the wound from his side had been too much it seemed. As Lucke administered antibiotics to the wound, he noticed a small, brown object on the ground. It was a wallet. Lucke picked it up and took a peek inside. It contained a student I.D., some cash, and a driver's license. "Wiff Vignon IX," Lucke said to himself quietly. A groan from Wiff distracted Lucke from peeking into his personal belongings and back to the matter at hand. There was a bleeding boy in his house and the slam of car doors meant Lucke's parents were home. This was going to be hard to explain.