Fic:In Hope of Things Once Lost 3/?
Fic: In Hope of Things Once Lost
Fandom: Fright Night
Pairing: Peter/oc...sometime down the road
Rating: I'll say T, just because we all know that man has no filter on that dirty mouth of his.
Summary: "I've learned that things change, people change, and it doesn't mean you forget the past or try to cover it up; it simply means that you move on and treasure the memories. Letting go doesn't mean giving up, it means accepting that some things weren't meant to be."
“Randi, open up!” Peter hollered as his small fists banged against the English colonial home. “Come, on Miranda, please, please, open the damned door,” he whispered half to himself as he bounced on his heels. His body was still shaking with fear, shaking and now waiting for his best friend to answer her door, hoping that her father was away and he could spend the rest of his night in a warm and welcome environment.
“Jesus Peter, I was in bed,” a sleepy brown haired girl answered the door a little smaller than he, but clearly older in the eyes. Her dark iris’s met his and saw the fear there and quickly ushered him in. “Pete what happened!?” she asked in alarm, rushing to get a blanket from the closet and wrapping it around his shivering shoulders.
“Your dad home?” Peter half asked, grabbing the blanket gratefully and taking a seat on the paisley patterned couch.
“You come over in the middle of the night, looking like…well looking like that and then you ask about my dad? What do you want with him?”
“Just answer me Randi, is he here?” Peter breathed, grabbing her by the shoulders, his big round eyes frantically searching her face for an answer. He needed the answer he was searching for, if her father would have been there, surely the racket would have brought him downstairs by now. And still the house was so quiet.
It took her a few moments, her eyes still lingering on his blood stained clothing; but Miranda slowly shook her head no and let her arm settle on Peter’s knee, putting on a strong façade hoping it would settle him down. “Now, tell me what happened,”
“I don’t think I can,” Peter laughed darkly, something snarky twinkling in his eyes.
“If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” She whispered softly.
It was scary how quickly he came to trust her. Some new girl shows up to his school with an American accent and he feels the need to befriend her straight away. It wasn’t as is she was popular anyhow; she was quiet, kept to herself unless spoken too, a bit brainy and seeing as she was one of those military kids, her father was never around. As for her mother, well…nobody knew about her mother, not even Peter, it was just one of those things you didn’t dare ask about.
“It killed my parents,” Peter started sheepishly, hanging his head low and looking toward the fire place.
“Your parents? Your parents are dea-- Peter you have to call the police!” Miranda said frantically, reaching towards the nearest phone.
“No!” Peter grabbed her hand and put a stop to her movement. “There is nothing they can do; they can’t do anything to it.” He scoffed inwardly to himself, what would they do, stake it, burn it, douse it in holy water.
“What the hell do you mean it, Peter?” Miranda berated, cocking her head slightly, “what happened?”
“It killed them, I watched as it took their lives right in front of me!” Peter took a deep breath, “I watched as their bodies burned,” he sobbed.
“Who?!” Miranda Demanded. “Who was he?”
“Not he, Randi,” Peter admitted through wide eyes shaking his head. “It was a vampire. He was a vampire. So…alluring, bloody hell, he practically invited himself in.”
“Wait a minute,” Miranda scoffed, “you are trying to tell me a vampire came to your place and killed your parents?”
Peter nodded frantically and swallowed, “uh huh.”
“Well what a coincidence Peter, cause the bogeyman himself came and took my mom away,” she uttered sarcastically waving a hand at him before getting up and going into the kitchen to grab a snack.
“Miranda, I’m serious,” Peter stormed after her.
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed while digging through the fridge.
“Look,” he demanded, slamming the door and holding it shut with his arm. Towering over her despite the fact that she was the elder of the two. “I know what I saw, I know what happened,”
“Peter its jus-“
He put a hand on her shoulder to silence her quickly. Peter lifted up the corner of his shirt and let her see the bruises that were already starting to form from his rough housing. Her hands ghosted over his abdomen.
“Would I really do this to myself?” He asked quietly, “or am I really creative enough to think of this on my own.” Peter stuffed a piece of crumpled up piece of paper into her hands, with some sort of intricate design etched onto one side then headed over to her dad’s liquor cabinet.
“Pete, what is this?” Miranda questioned quietly, turning over the paper in her hands, “and what the hell are you doing?!”
“His clan…thing, and I’m looking for a drink.”
“Is that the official term,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “put the booze down, Peter,” she said without looking. Peter eyed the green liquid in his hand before sadly placing it back on the shelf.
“I don’t quite know what it’s called; all’s I know is that he left it behind. Pinned it to the wall before he jumped out the window.”
Peter slumped down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest, placing his head in the small gap before him.
“What am I going to do Randi,” he whispered.
“Well,” she situated herself next to him on the cool tile and slinked an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re going to stay here till dad gets home, that’ll give you a week,”
Peter sniffed and rolled his head to look at her through his big dark glossy eyes.
“You’ll have to go home eventually, Peter,” she said “you’re going to have to face those demons soon or a later, but I’ll be here,” Miranda dropped a motherly kiss on his forehead, “always.”
“No, you won’t,” he sniffed again and chuckled darkly, “you’ll be off soon enough, off to another strange land, making new friends, and forgetting about the mousy boy you met while abroad.”
“I won’t,” she argued
“You will.”
“I won’t,” she got up and extended her hands towards him, pulling him up to his feet. “Now let’s get you off to bed.”
Miranda put him up in her dad’s room, she figured he would need something far more comfy than the couch, especially if he’d be staying the rest of the week. She had to talk him into going to school and pretending that everything was normal; she didn’t even want to think what the other students would say if he told them what had happened, shit, she wasn’t even sure she even bought what he was saying. But Peter never had a reason to tell her something other than the truth, and if something did happen to his parents she would be there to help him through it.
The first time he woke screaming she rushed into the room and shook his pale, clammy, thrashing body awake. She dampened a cloth and wiped him down all the while humming and reminding herself of her own mother. Quickly she shook the thoughts from her mind and continued to calm him.
It was never too long though; before he would start again. She would settle herself down in her own covers, and just as the world was slipping away his cries would enter her ears and pull her abruptly from her bed. And in she would come, rag in hand, prepared to calm and hum him back to sleep. Eventually she gave up and stayed by his bedside, rocking and humming away, waiting for the inevitable. Miranda’s humming turned into soft singing, barely above a whisper and her fingers raked through the top of his hair.
“When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead,
Will there be rainbows day after day,
And here’s what my sweetheart said.
Que sera, sera; whatever will be will be,
The futures not ours to see, que sera, sera.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath and let her eyes slip closed.
“Randi?” Peter’s voice croaked out in the darkness.
“Shh,” she hushed him, “sleep Peter.”
“Your mum-“
“Good night Peter,” Miranda sighed.
Peter opened his mouth, letting his lips form a small o before sealing them shut again. “Right.” He nodded once. “Good night then.”
Fandom: Fright Night
Pairing: Peter/oc...sometime down the road
Rating: I'll say T, just because we all know that man has no filter on that dirty mouth of his.
Summary: "I've learned that things change, people change, and it doesn't mean you forget the past or try to cover it up; it simply means that you move on and treasure the memories. Letting go doesn't mean giving up, it means accepting that some things weren't meant to be."
“Randi, open up!” Peter hollered as his small fists banged against the English colonial home. “Come, on Miranda, please, please, open the damned door,” he whispered half to himself as he bounced on his heels. His body was still shaking with fear, shaking and now waiting for his best friend to answer her door, hoping that her father was away and he could spend the rest of his night in a warm and welcome environment.
“Jesus Peter, I was in bed,” a sleepy brown haired girl answered the door a little smaller than he, but clearly older in the eyes. Her dark iris’s met his and saw the fear there and quickly ushered him in. “Pete what happened!?” she asked in alarm, rushing to get a blanket from the closet and wrapping it around his shivering shoulders.
“Your dad home?” Peter half asked, grabbing the blanket gratefully and taking a seat on the paisley patterned couch.
“You come over in the middle of the night, looking like…well looking like that and then you ask about my dad? What do you want with him?”
“Just answer me Randi, is he here?” Peter breathed, grabbing her by the shoulders, his big round eyes frantically searching her face for an answer. He needed the answer he was searching for, if her father would have been there, surely the racket would have brought him downstairs by now. And still the house was so quiet.
It took her a few moments, her eyes still lingering on his blood stained clothing; but Miranda slowly shook her head no and let her arm settle on Peter’s knee, putting on a strong façade hoping it would settle him down. “Now, tell me what happened,”
“I don’t think I can,” Peter laughed darkly, something snarky twinkling in his eyes.
“If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” She whispered softly.
It was scary how quickly he came to trust her. Some new girl shows up to his school with an American accent and he feels the need to befriend her straight away. It wasn’t as is she was popular anyhow; she was quiet, kept to herself unless spoken too, a bit brainy and seeing as she was one of those military kids, her father was never around. As for her mother, well…nobody knew about her mother, not even Peter, it was just one of those things you didn’t dare ask about.
“It killed my parents,” Peter started sheepishly, hanging his head low and looking toward the fire place.
“Your parents? Your parents are dea-- Peter you have to call the police!” Miranda said frantically, reaching towards the nearest phone.
“No!” Peter grabbed her hand and put a stop to her movement. “There is nothing they can do; they can’t do anything to it.” He scoffed inwardly to himself, what would they do, stake it, burn it, douse it in holy water.
“What the hell do you mean it, Peter?” Miranda berated, cocking her head slightly, “what happened?”
“It killed them, I watched as it took their lives right in front of me!” Peter took a deep breath, “I watched as their bodies burned,” he sobbed.
“Who?!” Miranda Demanded. “Who was he?”
“Not he, Randi,” Peter admitted through wide eyes shaking his head. “It was a vampire. He was a vampire. So…alluring, bloody hell, he practically invited himself in.”
“Wait a minute,” Miranda scoffed, “you are trying to tell me a vampire came to your place and killed your parents?”
Peter nodded frantically and swallowed, “uh huh.”
“Well what a coincidence Peter, cause the bogeyman himself came and took my mom away,” she uttered sarcastically waving a hand at him before getting up and going into the kitchen to grab a snack.
“Miranda, I’m serious,” Peter stormed after her.
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed while digging through the fridge.
“Look,” he demanded, slamming the door and holding it shut with his arm. Towering over her despite the fact that she was the elder of the two. “I know what I saw, I know what happened,”
“Peter its jus-“
He put a hand on her shoulder to silence her quickly. Peter lifted up the corner of his shirt and let her see the bruises that were already starting to form from his rough housing. Her hands ghosted over his abdomen.
“Would I really do this to myself?” He asked quietly, “or am I really creative enough to think of this on my own.” Peter stuffed a piece of crumpled up piece of paper into her hands, with some sort of intricate design etched onto one side then headed over to her dad’s liquor cabinet.
“Pete, what is this?” Miranda questioned quietly, turning over the paper in her hands, “and what the hell are you doing?!”
“His clan…thing, and I’m looking for a drink.”
“Is that the official term,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, “put the booze down, Peter,” she said without looking. Peter eyed the green liquid in his hand before sadly placing it back on the shelf.
“I don’t quite know what it’s called; all’s I know is that he left it behind. Pinned it to the wall before he jumped out the window.”
Peter slumped down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest, placing his head in the small gap before him.
“What am I going to do Randi,” he whispered.
“Well,” she situated herself next to him on the cool tile and slinked an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re going to stay here till dad gets home, that’ll give you a week,”
Peter sniffed and rolled his head to look at her through his big dark glossy eyes.
“You’ll have to go home eventually, Peter,” she said “you’re going to have to face those demons soon or a later, but I’ll be here,” Miranda dropped a motherly kiss on his forehead, “always.”
“No, you won’t,” he sniffed again and chuckled darkly, “you’ll be off soon enough, off to another strange land, making new friends, and forgetting about the mousy boy you met while abroad.”
“I won’t,” she argued
“You will.”
“I won’t,” she got up and extended her hands towards him, pulling him up to his feet. “Now let’s get you off to bed.”
Miranda put him up in her dad’s room, she figured he would need something far more comfy than the couch, especially if he’d be staying the rest of the week. She had to talk him into going to school and pretending that everything was normal; she didn’t even want to think what the other students would say if he told them what had happened, shit, she wasn’t even sure she even bought what he was saying. But Peter never had a reason to tell her something other than the truth, and if something did happen to his parents she would be there to help him through it.
The first time he woke screaming she rushed into the room and shook his pale, clammy, thrashing body awake. She dampened a cloth and wiped him down all the while humming and reminding herself of her own mother. Quickly she shook the thoughts from her mind and continued to calm him.
It was never too long though; before he would start again. She would settle herself down in her own covers, and just as the world was slipping away his cries would enter her ears and pull her abruptly from her bed. And in she would come, rag in hand, prepared to calm and hum him back to sleep. Eventually she gave up and stayed by his bedside, rocking and humming away, waiting for the inevitable. Miranda’s humming turned into soft singing, barely above a whisper and her fingers raked through the top of his hair.
“When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead,
Will there be rainbows day after day,
And here’s what my sweetheart said.
Que sera, sera; whatever will be will be,
The futures not ours to see, que sera, sera.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath and let her eyes slip closed.
“Randi?” Peter’s voice croaked out in the darkness.
“Shh,” she hushed him, “sleep Peter.”
“Your mum-“
“Good night Peter,” Miranda sighed.
Peter opened his mouth, letting his lips form a small o before sealing them shut again. “Right.” He nodded once. “Good night then.”