I don't own The Lost Boys

Right. So I'm kinda giving up on writing one shots as I feel I...I write bloody shit, and it's insulting to you readers who write the characters fab and then... Anywho, just posting up my old stuff, and am now concentrating on a full fic I am doing. Shall try to post up the rest of the old one shots, but due to personal reasons, I don't have much time on my hands at the moment.

The sound of a blade running across something filled in the silence of the room, and dark brown eyes payed rapt attention to what they were doing. Those eyes, every so often, travelled to the clock on the mantelpiece, and then to the window, looking down at the people that bustled by below. The hands suddenly stopped when a loud crash came from above, and with a shake of the head, they presumed what they were doing. Minutes later, another crash came, and the eyes wandered to the ceiling.

Alan was debating on whether to pack up his stuff, and go over to Sam's. Peace and quiet wouldn't come, and it probably wouldn't for the remaining hours of the night, as Edgar was on a rampage. The reason was unknown, and Alan had no wish of finding out why, not unless he wanted to be caught up in Edgar's rage. He didn't. For now, where he was, was a protection against his brother. He knew the chair pushed up against the door wouldn't hold an enraged Edgar, but it comforted him to know it helped. Although he was curious as to what had angered his brother, going upstairs to investigate was the last thing on his mind. His words wouldn't help, because at times he was known to say the wrong things. He had learnt, from previous experiences, to not make the bear growl even more.

Edgar was enraged as it was, and just seeing Alan, would most likely increase that rage. They were good together most of the time, but even they had their fights, and although they seemed like nothing but kids with cocky mouths and bad attitudes, both could be vicious when it came to scrapping with one another. Sam had learnt that when trying to break the two up the one day when they fought over who got to have the comic he had brought round for them. It had ended with things being smashed, the bed being turned over, and both looking like they had been in the middle of a war.

''Alan!''

The hands dropped the knife, and the stake rolled off the table, landing with a quiet bang on the wooden oak flooring. The turning of the door handle informed him his brother knew where he was, and it seemed from the shouting, he'd done something wrong. Hands hurriedly collected all the stakes, and grabbing his backpack, he threw them into the bag. Alan's eyes went to the door, which was now being banged on, and he picked up the knife, making sure to stuff it away. Out of nowhere, the chair went flying backwards, and the door slammed open, banging loudly as it hit the wall. Edgar's cold eyes travelled around the room, and then suddenly blazed with anger when they sought out Alan. Neither moved but stared at each other in silence. Alan could practically feel the anger radiating from his brother, and he knew something was going to happen. The anger blazed more in his brothers eyes and he waited in silence for Edgar to do something.

''Where is it, Alan?'' Despite Edgar being pissed, he calmly walked towards his brother. ''I want it back, now!''

Alan frowned. ''Want what back? I don't know what you're talking about.''

''Liar'' Edgar hissed and looked at the open backpack by Alan's feet. ''I know you took it, Alan, and I want it back. Its mine you thief.''

It was Alan's turn to scowl. ''Thief! I haven't taken anything off you, whatever it's supposed to be.''

''My comic!'' Edgar snarled, and grabbing Alan's backpack, tipped the contents out. He searched inside it, and finding nothing, threw it across the room.

Alan stood up, and stared at his brother coldly. ''You're comic. Why would I want your comic, I have my own. They're divided. Your comics are on your side of the room and mine are on mine side of the room. I haven't touched your things.''

Edgar stared back with a dark face, and complete enraged eyes. ''Liar! Liar! You always go through my things, and take them. I told you to stay off my side of the room. First my poster goes missing, then my one comic, and now this one. This is my favourite comic, and I demand you give it back, right this instant!''

''I haven't taken yo...'' Alan's words were cut off with him being tackled to the floor. Edgar socked him in the face, and with a growl hit, him again. Alan went from calm, to surprised, and just like his brother, enraged. Both started scrapping on the floor, and fists went flying, along with legs lashing out. Both ignored the lamp and dust covered ornaments falling to the floor. People from below would be able to hear the racket the two were making, even if the top window didn't happen to be open. Shouts and growls came from the two, more things smashed, and the fists kept flying.

''Edgar, Alan, what are you doing?''

Both stopped fighting. Eyes went towards the door, and the pair sat up. Their mother stood in the door way, and both could see the dazed look in her eyes. As usual, she was high as a kite. There seemed to be a small smile on her face, but it wasn't aimed at her sons. Her eyes stared off into space, and the two waited for her to say something, as it was unusual to see her out of her room, unless her or their father were raiding the cupboards for oreos, tin foil, matches, whiskey, and other snacks.

''Edgar, dear, I hope you don't mind, but this was on the kitchen table this morning...''

Both looked at what was in her hand, and their jaws dropped open. It was Edgar's comic, but he couldn't call it a comic anymore. The front cover had practically been peeled off, and one word could be seen, the rest was gone. Pages had also been ripped from out of the comic.

Edgar jumped up and snatched it from his mother's hand. Alan came to a stand behind him, and inspected the comic with shocked eyes.

''What have you done!'' Edgar looked up at his mother, finding the small smile still on her face, and the same dazed look in her eyes.

''Answer me, mother. What have you done to my comic!''

Edgar didn't care that he was shouting at his mother so rudely, but then again, neither did she care that he was speaking to her like that. She was too high to even realise. It was even surprising to them, that she knew Edgar's name, or even realised she had two sons.

''We ran out of filter tips, we needed something for our... supplies.''

''You used my comic for drugs!'' Edgar stared at his mother with a mixture of shock, anger and hate. ''You used my comic for your stupid drugs!''

''Well...'' She shook her head. ''We needed something to roll our... cigarettes.''

And with that, she ruffled his hair, and walked out of the room. Edgar stared after her, and then looking at his comic, began to silently weep.

Alan put a hand on his shoulder, that same shocked look still in his eyes.