The Lost Boys Imagines and Preferences (Book 2)

BSM: You're 19 and Michael finds a pregnancy test in the trash

(Brother and Sister Moment) 

You and Michael are brother and sister.

Your phone buzzed. The five minutes were up. You sat on the floor of your dingey bathroom, leaning against the faded, green tiles covering the walls. You were shaking like a leaf, and there were already tears building your eyes. You knew what the result was. You just knew it.

With a trembling hand, you reached for the stick lying on the sink. You had to take a deep breath before you could squint an eye open and peek at the test.

The little plus on the screen confirmed your fears.

You were pregnant.

The breath got knocked out of your lungs, and the whirlpool of emotions swirling in your stomach had you hunching over the toilet bowl and hurling. By the time you drew back, you were sobbing. You staggered to your feet on wobbling legs, knees buckling dangerously. You rinsed your mouth quickly before a sudden swoop of anger had you grabbing the stick in a tight grip and tossing it at the wall. 

Despite putting all your strength into that one throw, the stick just fell to the ground with a dull thud. With the knowledge that Michael was out grocery shopping, you let out a toe-curling scream. You'd never heard yourself make that sound before. It was full of anguish and you scooped up the little piece of plastic, throwing it into the trash with more force than necessary. Before you could collapse onto the floor once again, you decided it was probably best to go for a walk before your brother got back. You weren't in the right state, and you needed to think things through before you would have to face them and tell the truth.

There was a steady drizzle pounding down on the hood of your jacket as you ran across the pavement. It felt good to see everything pass by you in a blur. It felt like you could truly outrun your problems, as you lost all sense of time and direction. When you finally came to a halt, you collapsed against a brick wall, panting heavily. Your tears were mixing in with the raindrops, so no one was giving you any looks as they hurried past you.

There was so much you had to figure out. First off, who the fuck was the father? All you remembered was brown touseled hair, blue eyes and maybe a long coat? Tanned? You couldn't remember. You must've been drunk off your mind or something. You could only remember glimpses while the rest was a black void. Your hunter instincts were telling you that something fishy was going on, but you didn't have to worry about that.

It all clicked in your head. There wasn't a choice to make. You knew you had to keep it. Watch your baby grow up, and hopefully find a way out of the hunter lifestyle before he or she got too old to be affected by it. You knew Michael would help you, knew Sam would too, as would Lucy. 

With a renewed hope, you started on the trek back to the motel. You were anxious yet nervous to tell your brother. You knew they would come eventually, but there was a high risk of Michael yelling and then storming off before that happened.

You didn't realize just how far you'd run before you returned to the motel with aching muscles, a pleasant sort of soreness already settling in. 

"Oh thank fucking god." Michael breathed when you opened the door to the house.

He was holding something in his hand, but before you could see what it was, Sam was enveloping you in a hug. He rocked you back and forth and confusedly you rocked along, arms wound around your waist. "We were so worried you'd done something stupid." He whispered as he pulled back. 

"What?" Instead of answering, Michael held out his hand, and there, resting in his palm, was your pregnancy test. "Oh." It was silent for a few beats, until you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not getting an abortion. And I won't give them up for adoption either."

Both your brothers shoulders sagged in relief. "I was afraid we'd be forced to convince you not to give it up."

"Me too." Sam said, eyes flickering to the stick in Michael's hand. "Y'know, Y/N peed on that." Michael squeaked and fumbled with the stick in true infomercial style before dropping it on the carpet.

"Child." You muttered.