Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Damien's eyes widened. "King?"
King grinned, a laid-back expression on his face as he looked at the boy. "What's up?" he said, his tone casual.
Damien looked at him curiously, still trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. "What are you doing here?" he questioned.
King laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, my boy, what are you doing here?" he shot back, poking at Damien with his ghostly fingers, the touch sending a chill through Damien's skin. "You're like 20 years from where you're supposed to be."
"We came to fix the future," Damien explained, his voice low. "How'd you know we were here?"
"Felt a familiar presence," King replied, his tone serious now. "Them niggas told me I was crazy, but seeing the changes, I had to come see for myself."
"Changes?" Damien asked, a sense of unease creeping into his voice.
King nodded. "Ella and your mom, man."
Damien's eyebrows furrowed. "Sure, the tension was bound to happen sooner or later, but this is too soon. And now Ella can't even go to the prom 'cause of your little friends fucking shit up."
"The vase?" Damien mumbled under his breath, remembering the event that had caused so much trouble.
"Yes, nigga, the vase," King confirmed, sounding exasperated. "Y'all dropping that caused another string to be added to the timeline, opening more possible endings—both good and bad."
Damien looked up in confusion, not quite understanding. King's eyes met his, a look of frustration crossing his face.
"Let me show you," King said, his voice firm. He reached out, grabbing Damien's shoulders. Damien felt like his whole body was being swallowed whole, a sensation so intense it forced him to close his eyes in fear.
"Open your eyes, pussy," King said sharply.
Damien opened his eyes and let out a gasp. He was no longer in the hallway but in a vast, empty space with King standing in front of him, looking solid, almost real. "King?" he questioned, still trying to process everything.
"Nigga, duh," King replied, rolling his eyes.
Damien took a good look at him. King was tall, about 6'11", with shiny gold grills that gleamed when he spoke. But the most stunning feature, at least to Damien, were King's eyes, a vibrant green, as lush as the greenest grass. His hair was just as striking—waves colored in a deep red that complemented his eyes perfectly.
"Quit eye-fucking me, man," King said, waving his hand in front of Damien's face. Damien blinked, snapping out of his daze but still looking confused. King rolled his eyes, grabbing Damien's arm. "Come on."
King dragged him through the darkness, the space around them shifting and morphing until they stopped in front of a large screen. "Where are we? Why do you look like that?" Damien finally asked, firing off questions now that he had a moment to think.
