Unrequited Chapter 3

Pairing: Alan Frog/Edgar Frog

Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Lost Boys, any of its sequels or any copyrights. All I own is 2 DVDs and a t-shirt. And I suppose the stories I write based on those films. That is it!

I'm sorry I've abandoned you guys T-T Writer's block has been squishing any ideas I've had This is a little beginning to the "special" chapter The next one SHOULD be up next week. Going on study leave! Whoop! So no excuses this time. Anyway, you've waited long enough. O with my tale…

~PAGE BREAK~

~~~Edgar's POV~~~

Edgar rung his hands together.

God, what am I doing?

That seemed to be the only thought going through his mind for the last 20 minutes. He had been sitting in the living room, debating whether or not to go through with this. He felt so confident on the beach. He'd been determined to confront Alan about his coldness and avoidance, but when it came to actually doing it, Edgar wasn't so sure. His brother was by no means a weakling, if Edgar pushed something a millimetre too far or asked the wrong question, he might wake up at the Emerson's with nothing but a broken face and an Edgar-shaped hole in the wall.

He was pulled from his musings when he heard the front door open. Oh god, here goes nothing. Edgar suddenly felt a coldness melt through him and he began to feel numb and detached. Alan walked into the living room with a loud sigh, dropped his keys into the dish on the cabinet next to the door, looked up and froze. This was a bad idea. What if he runs? What if he doesn't? Edgar's mind was going a mile a minute. He didn't even realise his mouth opened until it was too late. He said one of the worse things he could have at that moment.

"I saw you watching me."

Alan's eyes clouded over with worry, fear and embarrassment. Then anger exploded into his usually dark, guarded eyes.

"So what now? You hate me right? You think I'm sick and you want me to leave, right? Well fine!"

He turned and stalked out of the room and up the stairs. Edgar sat, stunned, until he heard their (his?) bedroom door slam shut. He quietly stood up and followed his older brother. He pushed down on the handle. It wouldn't budge.

"Alan? Come on Alan, open up." Edgar tried his best to sound non-threatening. He hoped to whatever God was out there that it worked.

"Why? Why should i?" Shit, his "non-threatening" voice didn't seem to be helping.

"Alan, we need to talk?"

"About what? About how I'm sick, and wrong? And should be shot for thinking about these things? For thinking these things about my own goddamn brother?"

From the muffled sounds coming through the bedroom door, Edgar was sure Alan was crying. It broke his heart, to think that his big brother was crying but mostly because it was his fault.

"Al? Al, come on. Open the door and we'll take about it."

"I don't think I can Edgar. I don't think I could handle you hating me or even secretly hating me."

"Al, you don't really think I could hate you, do you?"

"But you know how I really feel about you; most people would have run for the hills by now."

"I'm not most people, Al. now open the door."

There was a quiet sniffle then the sound of his big brother standing up. The clever bastard had been sitting behind the door so he couldn't get in. he made a mental note to berate him about it later. The door slowly opened to a miserable looking Alan. His eyes and nose were ringed red and there were tear trails down his cheeks.

"You really don't hate me?"

"I could never hate you Al."

Alan sniffed loudly. "Really?"

"Really."

Alan seemed please enough with this and stepped out of the way. He moved to sit on the bed. Edgar stood awkwardly in the doorway. He hadn't thought to change when he came in. now he was stood in the doorway of his (their?) bedroom in nothing but tight swimming shorts and a t-shirt, under his brother's scrutinizing watch. Edgar slowly walked over to the bed and sat next to his brother.

Was it a good idea to confront him?

What should I say now?

Should I just get changed and go over to Sam's, leave him time to think about stuff?

Should I tell him how I feel?

Edgar was knocked from his musings when Alan decided to speak.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Edgar was thankful that Alan had broken the long silence. There had been a thick silence between them for far too long.

"Said what?"

"That you could never hate me?"

Edgar gave an exasperated sigh. This was starting to bug him but he knew his brother. Even though he didn't care what anyone thought of him, he always seemed to need the reassurance that Edgar would always be there for him. Alan's only real fear was that he would one day be alone in the world, without Edgar.

"Nothing you could ever do could make me hate you."

Alan gave him a sceptical look but let it go. That god awful silence descended once again.

Should I tell him now?

Yes, I should.

But what if he knocks me through the wall for not telling him sooner?

God, why does it have to be so goddamned confusing and complicated?

Edgar shakily exhaled then opened his mouth to speak but found his mouth had gone completely dry. He closed it then swallowed a few times.

Here goes nothing…again.

"Alan?"

"Yeah, E?"

"What would you say if I told you that i…" he cleared his throat "if I told you that I urm, that I feel the same way?"

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for a fist to make contact with his face or for the door to slam but neither happened. There was an unnerving silence hanging in the air, threatening to suffocate Edgar. He could feel Alan's eyes on him, surveying him, deciding whether or not he was lying.

"…what?"

The tone immediately told Edgar that the wrong word at the wrong time could result in him being hospitalized. He felt like a gazelle being watched by a lion, one wrong move and it was all over.

"I said I feel the same way."

Edgar was off the bed and pressed against the wall in a matter of seconds. He felt winded but he couldn't focus on that at the moment, not when his brother was pressed up against him and his warm breath was hitting Edgar's ear in hot puffs.

Oh god, here it comes. I'm going through the wall. I should have told him sooner. What if he thinks I knew and just wanted to torture him with it?

Edgar's thought process stopped when Alan forced him to face him and he saw the mixture of emotions in his eyes. Lust, desire, love, worry, fear, doubt, there even seemed to be a hint of happiness. It was then their lips met in a clash of lips and teeth.