Don't be Afraid of the Dark

Chapter 1- Pride and Pain

They were health nuts, and had taken as many precautions as possible so they could live long, happy lives with their two sons, despite the circumstances. Emil wailed as the caskets were lowered into the ground. Lukas only stared, his eyes glazed but his expression remained apathetic. After the services concluded, he scooped up his brother, stone façade intact, and balanced the boy on his hip. His only sign of distress was the fist curled into his brother's shirt.

The universe was mocking him, he just knew it. It was too damn sunny for a funeral. Despite a few distant relatives protest, Lukas drove himself and Emil home. To his chagrin, those social service people were waiting for them. The faux smiles and condolences got under his skin, gnawed at his insides and made his chest ache. An agent reached out, offering to hold Emil while he packed. Poor woman didn't stand a chance.

"You are not taking my brother from me!" He snarled.

Everyone shrank back, even Emil.

He clutched the child closer and lightly moved up the stairs, the air of indifference in his step, but slammed the door open and closed. He exhaled slowly, lightly setting Emil in his bed as if the boy was made of glass. Emil stared at Lukas with wide eyes. Lukie never yelled.

The boy could barely catch the "Stay here, please." That his brother had whispered. A hand squeeze and a light brush of his lips to the toddler's temple later, Lukas turned away from his brother. He started with methodically selecting clothes, setting them in a duffel bag. Once full, he huffed, slamming the bag on the ground furiously and gripped at his hair. His fingers found the archaic cross that recently found use holding his bangs back. He wrenched his mother's pin free and threw the heirloom. It stuck in the drywall. He shoved his books off the shelves and kicked them across the floor. Midsearch for something else to destroy, he heard a hiccup.

Emil was curled up on the bed sobbing. He didn't sense his brother's approach until the mattress dipped and he was entrapped in the elder's embrace. Lukas' face pressed into Emil's hair, he took slow breaths. Even as he grew, Emil hadn't lost his soft baby scent. Neither had his hair lost its downy feel or nor darkened with age. His skin was still translucent and soft. The scrapes and bruises had healed quickly, leaving his flesh unmarred again.

"Big Brother?" Emil murmured. Lukas didn't answer.

"Big Brother." Again, nothing.

"Bror?" No response.

Lukas tugged him into his lap, and whispered "I'm sorry." Emil tilted his head back to see his brother's face. Lukie's eyes were closed, his teeth were grit and his body shook and held HIS child to his chest and squeezed.

"I'm sorry."

….

In the last weeks of school, Lukas studied for his exams. He wasn't about to lose his slot in class. Emil rushed into their shared room, and found Lukas on the often empty bed that had been meant for Emil.

"Mama and Papa said it's time for bikes." Emil said and smiled hopefully at Lukas.

"I can't today. Studying."

"Are you sure you don't want to? Sitting for too long is dangerous." Their mother added from the doorway.

"Broooooor"

"Emil."

"Go outside and study for goodness sake. You need to synthesize Vitamin D. And afterwards we'll go to that frozen yogurt place to celebrate." His mother smiled at the end of her decisive ruling. Emil beamed and spouted about being a big boy for graduating from a tricycle to training wheels.

Their mother pulled Lukas aside in a one armed hug and squeezed his arm. "Happy Birthday my Lukas." She whispered, kissing his cheek. Lukas fought the urge to roll his eyes and squeezed back. It was a seventeenth birthday. He didn't care, he'd had seventeen, and would have decades more. He strapped Emil's helmet on the boy, despite his protests after slathering the little one in sunblock. Lukas watched the three of them ride away from their gnarled tree in the yard. He rested against a branch and reread the chapter he was working on.

Every once in a while a car would drive through the suburb. The sun cast demons that danced around the ground beneath him as it set. Too dark to read comfortably, he shut his book and listened. He could hear an obnoxious bike bell, no doubt from Emil in his exuberance. The next sound wasn't normal. Some clunky gas-guzzler sped a few streets away. He leapt from his perch and trudged towards the house.

That chill. The feeling in his chest was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Some moron was walking on his grave….make that dancing on it while laughing. The book landed with a thud. Lukas shook his head and stooped to retrieve the slipped tome.

Then he heard it. Impact. The screech of metal on metal on pavement.

No.

He didn't realize he was running until he slid off the curb and into the street. Meanwhile, the cogs began churning overtime.

There's no way it was them. It couldn't-

Then why didn't he hear that bell?

He's scared, that's all. They're fine. Why am I running?

Some people were milled around, phones in hand. The truck's cab was open, the driver shaking and mumbling. "I didn't see'em. I didn't see'em." Lukas rounded the truck's passenger side. Some more people were trying to coerce something from the shrubbery. He stopped. On the sidewalk, blue and red wheels of a small bike were still spinning while on its side. A larger wheel of another bike was bent unnaturally under the truck. He stared down at the bloody shredded sneaker before him. Looking up, he met a neighbor's eyes. The man gave a quick negative and turned to gesture at the shrubs. Lukas stumbled over, panic rising, trying to remember how to breathe. The people parted like the sea from the shrub. Crouching, he pushed the branches away. "Emil." He breathed. The numbness spread through his chest, his mind stopped, leaving him to flounder before ordering, "Lille Bror, come here." His words came out softer than his breathing. Still, Emil wriggled free of the vegetation and into Lukas's arms. His milky skin was scraped and dirty. Emil continued crying quietly, snot smeared on his face. Lukas used his shirt sleeves to mop up his brother's face.

Emil pushed his face into the crook of his brother's neck. Lukas was glad. Emil could not see the front of the truck, and Lukas did not want to see.

…

One year. A measly year kept him from custody of his brother. They'd be separated. In a year, Lukas would be an adult, he could make it work. Make something of himself and take care if Emil. A measly year.

Lukas had been twelve when Emil came into the world. It was also his first experience with a baby. He'd been uninterested in the blob of helplessness in the beginning. Until the night the blob was deemed old enough to sleep in the crib. It cried off and on in the night. Their parents had left it there after a quick peek. Apparently it needed to learn how to sleep alone. Even in the witching hour, it woke up and screeched. To say Lukas was angry was an understatement. He got out of bed and marched into the nursery. He scooped the blob up from the crib, then frantically readjusted his arms after its head lolled uncontrollably to the side. The little being struggled to keep itself righted. Then he remembered, the monster known as Emil was too small to lift his own head up very long without help. It was indeed helpless. And their parents had left it alone- How Dare They?

At least the crying had stopped.

Lukas sighed, settled the baby in his arms and descended the stairs. After studiously reading the label, he mixed the formula and pushed the bottle up to its mouth. The blob had to have been famished to drink so fast. Then he moved the blob so he faced over his shoulder and patted his back like he'd seen their mother do. The monster let out a loud belch and settled back into Lukas's hold.

"Awwww…"

Lukas turned to see their mother in the entry way, a tired smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, it was your father's turn but he wanted to see if Emil would go under himself, and-"

Lukas regarded her and her wording, "Your father" instead of dad or papa in years past, the fact she tried to continue her excuse instead of to the point as per her fashion. He gave her a nod and ascended the stairs, blob in hand and pushing the failing marriage out of his head before arriving at the nursery. He figured the blob should have a fresh diaper. The idea of sleeping in your own waste sounded awful. He did his best to replicate what he'd seen others do to change a diaper. Emil cried again when he took it off, not liking the exposure to the air and kicking his legs about in protest. Lukas quickly fastened the thing onto the infant, rebuttoned the footies and picked the blob up again. He decided against the crib and crossed the hall into his room. He set a pillow on the side of the bed, sat down and carefully moved while remaining in control of the blob's movement. Emil squirmed a little, then snuggled into Lukas's chest as he lay them down to sleep.

…

They'd never spent a night apart since then. Lukas would take the infant at night to sleep, thus becoming one another's security blanket. Emil would take naps in Lukas's arms while he studied. He'd sit cross-legged with his books before him, one arm to support the baby's head and his legs would act as a rest while the other hand turned pages. He got better at changing diapers and preparing bottles. He didn't mind his parents' world now, when they both started working just to avoid each other and leaving constantly. That just left more time for Emil and his studies, the two things his life revolved around.

…

When Lukas finally came to, Emil got off his lap and yanked the cross out of the wall and clipped it back in its proper place. Lukas muttered a curse and tumbled from the bed. He lifted Emil in one arm, leaned over the bed so the boy could grab his puffin, slung the bag over his opposite shoulder and exited the room. Before descending the stairs, he entered the "nursery", Emil's room that was used for storage and as a rec room. He pilfered their secret stash of food and filled another bag.

"Think you can reach Mjollnir?" Lukas asked Emil, who nodded and outstretched his arm as Lukas lowered him into a trunk and retrieve the precious instrument's case and binder full of music sheets. He shoved the binder and an armful of books into another backpack, took the violin case from Emil, set the bags on the floor before shifting the boy on his hip and prepared to take the stairs.

The ragged gaping hole in his chest ached looking at the steps. He'd lose Emil. They'd take him away because they didn't think that he'd be able to take care of him. His arms tightened, he had a moment to make the decision. When he took another breath, he found that he had made this decision years ago. There was no real qualm here. He lightly retraced his steps and retrieved his car keys from the hook. He found the rope ladder ("only for emergencies" he'd been told.) He was sure this counted as an emergency. He tossed it out the window and secured it to the edge.

He left Emil to keep watch as he descended the ladder with their luggage. He moved as quietly as possible to the car, undid the latch and filled the trunk with their belongings. He climbed back up to the window and reached for Emil. One last act. He found a belt and wrapped it around his and his brother's chests, he had to be sure that Emil would stay put. Lukas tied his wrists gently before slinging them around his neck. The boy clung like a monkey, legs wrapped around tightly and hands clutching onto shirt before glancing up at his brother, who merely nodded before ducking out the window.

Lukas hushed the whimpering child when they heard the click-clack of shoes going up the stairs. It was hard not to laugh, idiots were only just now trying to check on them.

"I've got you. I've got you." He murmured the mantra not only for the boy but for himself as well. The descent was painfully slow. Time was of the essence, at any moment they'd be apprehended, he felt like a fugitive. It was almost fun. At any moment, they'd look out a window, or worse- come outside and realize that they were being duped. But so was silence. As was safety.

After an eternity, Lukas's feet touched the ground. He wasted no time in freeing Emil and shoving him into the back seat. He closed and opened the doors as quietly as he could manage, sitting down and sticking the key in the ignition. He waited for Emil to call "click" before fastening his own seatbelt. He waited until a car passed behind them in the street before turning the switch and pulling off the driveway. He had no idea if they heard or when they'd notice- there was no time to think as he peeled off into the soon to be setting sun. As miles and hours blew by, the bubbling hysteria nearly consumed the teenager who'd come to a realization. Despite his work and awards- unless he turned around now, he'd have no future.

Turn back, have a future. Take the scholarships and make everyone revere the Bondevick name. Turn back. Have a life. A future.

He pulled off into an empty lot, preparing to make a U-Turn.

EMIL.

In his haze, he'd nearly forgotten why. Turn back, have a future. Turn back, lose Emil.

Turning back would be admitting defeat. Turning back would mean the champion violinist, the victor of countless (and to him, forgettable) academic competitions, sure to be valedictorian from the beginning of his school career, Lukas Bondevick, was nothing.

Without Emil, he was nothing. At first, Lukas was merely playing. Watching others fail while he succeeded, watching them squirm and cry while he held his head up high was fun. He was superior to all of them. That much was clear. Why did they even try?

After the competitions, the losers parents would go and not only console their children but tell them how proud they were. He didn't mind waiting, sometimes hours after the event, admiring his medals or trophies or certificates, for one of his parents to pick him up. He used to show them, up until he was ten when he accepted the truth. His father would nod and on the rare occasion grumble a "good job" or quickly shoot a smile without pausing to look at his shiny things. His mother would lightly praise him, and had bought the shelves that his awards sat on. There were, however, no real hugs and kisses for his work. No special trips or promises of new things. Just the fake smiles from the shells of the people who had given him life. There was no point except to cause misery. He was unhappy, why should others be happy when he was so much better than them? Why did they even bother when that was so clear?

Pride, he'd discovered. It was pride and the realization that it mattered. His actions mattered. He mattered. He was needed. After Emil's birth, and that first night he'd comforted his then blob brother, it mattered. Emil needed his big brother to take care of and teach him. That was a fact. And Lukas needed his lille bror , more than he'd ever thought possible.

He parked in the lot, double checked that his doors were locked, pulled his bat from baseball season out from under the seat and crawled into the back. He unfastened his sleeping brother and pulled him up to lay out on his chest. One hand on his brother's back, the other clutching the bat he stared at the sky through the windows, looking for stars. Finding none, he settled for staring off into the dark.

…..

Author's Notes

This is my first post. Any input would be greatly appreciated.

I am certainly a sick person for doing this. The bike accident came from Icelanders getting run over by Danes on bikes in Denmark (the bike roads look like sidewalks). I read something about that and thought it was hilarious… so I figured out how to traumatize Iceland into hating bikes sans Danes. Mjollnir is the name of Thor's hammer and Lukas's violin. Babies have baby smell. Smell a baby if you don't understand, just don't be creepy when you do it.

Notice! When Lukas brings Emil to his bed, you're not supposed to do that. You're not supposed to sleep with a baby on/next to you. So many stories of baby's being crushed and/or suffocated in their sleep. Though I'd bring my baby brother to sleep with me all the time and we were fine, though I am a light sleeper and would wake up when my monster would move. But don't do it.

Now onto the Slenderman. There will definitely be SlenderDenmark as well as mentions of other slenders/shades/whatever you want to call them. This stemmed from slenderman is dark and scary but may actually be friendly with kids and not a murderous creature. Maybe he just wants a hug. I'm taking this in a different direction from what I've seen in the slendernation fics I've perused through, as well as a different origin. The first person I thought of after that was Sweden. *shots fired* Mr. scary who is actually nice and good with kids but really tall and quiet. The Sufin one will come after this one, even though I thought of that one first.

Any help at all would once again be really appreciated.