Prodigy

Locke de Davies

Every now and then, you meet someone who messes things up. Someone who impacts life so suddenly, they throw you through a loop and you don't know what happened, when your daily life shifted gears and changed without your knowledge.

Everyone knew about Locke De Davies. The prodigy who rocked the classical music world, who stole the spotlight of the mainstream music world by dueting with everyone, who people expected the world of. He was the seventeen-year-old boy who didn't live the seventeen-year-old life.

Not everyone knew about Zane Roberts but he was just fine like that. If you did know him, you knew him to look at him, with his blue eyes that clashed against his dark skin and dreadlocks down his back.

Zane admitted, he never expected to meet De Davies. Classical music wasn't really his thing, the only reason he knew him as more then a just a name was because one of his friends was slightly in love with him.

He certainly hadn't expected to meet him on a freezing October night, on a basketball court, competing against a group of thick-skulled, self-proclaimed bad-boys who didn't do anything against anyone unless they had the upper hand.

Not that Locke was bad at basketball... it's just that he was totally going to get his head caved in if he continued to piss them off with his wise-ass attitude and show-off antics.

Zane couldn't help but get involved - he could just see Jessica's wailing face if she learnt from the morning entertainment news that The Great God Locke had been hurt.

It was his luck that the 'bad-boys' knew him and didn't bother with their little match much longer after he challenged them. It was late, they were cold, they backed off saying it wasn't worth their time.

And as soon as they were gone, Zane banged the basketball off Locke's head and turned on him.

"Are you trying to get yourself into the morgue?" he snapped, glowering as Locke rubbed the side of his head.

"No, why would I want to be in a morgue? They're cold," Locke replied and Zane growled, snatching the ball back.

Locke gave him a wide grin, holding up his hands as he sat back against the wall that surrounded the court, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.

"Easy, I'm just teasing."

"I'm serious, you could have got hurt. How are you supposed to impressive the music world with a busted face?"

Locke raised an eyebrow at him. "You know who I am?"

"Yeah, I know who you are."

"I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be."

"No?"

"No. I'm not a fan, my friend is. The amount of shit I hear about you from her could fill books, or the memory on my phone."

Locke laughed again. "Should I apologise for being irresistible?"

"No, though you can apologise for that dickish comment."

"I'm sorry."

"Nice to know you mean it."

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Zane."

Locke held out a hand and, after looking at it for a moment, Zane reached out and took it. Locke clamped a grip like iron down on him and yanked him forwards so suddenly he almost knocked Zane off his feet, forcing him to drop the ball as he threw out his free hand to catch the chain-link fence above Locke's head to keep his balance. For being shorter and slighter then Zane, Locke was surprisingly strong.

He blinked, startled for a moment, then glared down at Locke.

He was a handsome guy, everyone who saw his picture knew that, but up close, Zane could see he was annoyingly good looking, his appearance somewhere between handsome and beautiful - with really dark brown eyes against his blonde hair that was somehow crafted into a messy French plait, streaks of electric blue interwoven through it. He certainly wasn't typical for a classical musician.

He was looking up at Zane with the same examining eyes Zane was looking down at him with.

Then he grinned that grin.

"You're really hot, you know that?" he said and Zane smacked him over the head and pulled his hand free. "Owww, who hits the guy who gives you a compliment?" he grumbled, again rubbing his head as Zane snatched the ball up, bouncing it as he picked up his jacket. His body had cooled off from the short match he'd had against the thickheads and his temperature suddenly remembered it was October.

"You should be careful what you say to who then, you might not get hurt next time," he replied.

"Someone can't take a compliment," Locke muttered, puffing his cheeks in a pout, before glancing at the ball as Zane absently flicked it onto his finger and span it as he looked at his phone. "Is that just a neat trick or do you play basketball?"

"I play it," Zane replied, locking his phone and catching the ball. He happened to catch it so a stamp on the ball was facing him, showing him who owned the ball.

Day Collage, East London.

He stared at it. Then glared at Locke.

"Did you steal this?"

Locke gave him an innocent look. "How did you know?"

"This is my school." He hurled the ball at Locke and zipped up his hoodie. "Take that back."

"Eh, can't you?" Locke asked, catching it.

"You stole you, you return it."

"What a good boy."

"Makes life easier," Zane replied, walking past him.

"Do you come by here often?" Locke called after him as he left the court.

"Nope," he lied in reply, pulling up his hood. He stuck his earbuds in before Locke could continue the conversation and, with a wave over his shoulder for politeness, he broke into a jog, finishing what he'd gone out to do in the first place, leaving Locke to look after himself and hopefully not piss off someone else in the meantime.

~~~~

So, here's my short-story-turned-novella for you guys

As i said, this is dedicated to all my fans (now 108) - specially written for you guys. 

it's.... urrr.... well it turns a tad darker then i intended it to be (considering it's supposed to be a nice gift lol) but i hope you like it.... or at least don't hate me by the end of it....

anyways

enjoy! Don't forget to comment and vote! X3