Midnight Sparkle

Prologue

Adrian Crevan stands against the pool table on the outside deck of the Spanish resort in Majorca, holding the pool que proudly. The 13 year old smokes the end of a rolled-up cigarette awaiting the challenger he knows will never come, because he beat everyone else in the hotel, stealing their money in the process. All the teens, all the adults. Nobody will challenge him, he's the king of the fucking pool table. A bus arrived this morning and just as he finished breakfast of cereal and orange juice (in separate containers) he noticed a kid entering amongst the other tourists, tall, slender and dressed in black.

The older kid was cute, he'd thought, and as he stands Adrian can't help glance around in search of him. Not that he could ever talk to him, someone taller and older and imposing. People in general are imposing, making him feel small as he stands before them. He just about gives up, ready to abandon his pursuits because even if this mystery boy approaches him, there's no way he'd actually talk to him! He wouldn't have any idea how to. He flicks away his smoke and places down his que when a hand wraps around the shaft, picking it up before him.

It's the boy, his hair greasy and black and falling over his face. His skin is a dusty pale, red eyes searing into his soul, creepily as he states like a ravenous demon. Demon Stare gazes from his oddly silver hair down to his black sandals with tiny metal skull accents on the straps, and his silver toe rings. 

"So, you're supposed to be the champion of the hotel," Demon Star challenges, and Adrian freezes. He's so intimidating, he's terrifying with those eyes of his and his imperial stature, several inches taller than Adrian. "But you look to scared to be the hotel champion. Or am I simply wasting my time with you?"

Adrian can only stand and gulp, hyper aware he's staring in fright at this boy, frozen in position and unable to respond. If he doesn't, it'll be an unintelligible series of stammers. Thankfully Demon Eyes doesn't wait for a response and begins setting up the balls for the next game, freeing Adrian to breathe a sigh of relief. He breaks the triangle and pots a stripe.

"Huh. I guess I'm stripes," Demon Eyes smirks over at Adrian, who's admittedly impressed. Nobody expects to sink a ball on the break. Demon Eyes then proceeds to sink every. Single. Ball. Without missing once and Adrian doesn't get a single turn. His mouth gapes in shock as this boy sinks the 8 ball, turning to smirk at him in satisfaction. "Well, I guess I win,"

Adrian just stands there dumbfounded.

"Don't feel too bad, I used to play professional in tournaments for the under 12's," he smiles, but it isn't a happy smile. Adrian feels like he'd never look happy. His imposing nature fits with his gothic attire, dressed all in black despite the heat of the resort. He dresses very similar to Adrian, but more intensely rooted in the dark gothic theme. "I'll be taking the money now,"

Demon Eyes swipes Adrian's hard earned cash off the corner of he pool table. Finally, the defeated speaks up. "D-Do you know any tricks?"

"Bloody right I do," he grins, satisfied with himself. Pride seems to radiate from his smirk, despite the expression never having changed. "But I don't feel like paying to get the balls out again to show you,"

At this Adrian grins and without having to say anything, stick his hands down the holes and picks out plastic drinks cups, the kind given out in the hundreds by the bar. They're crumpled and in each of them are the pool balls. "Y-You don' have ta... pay," he gives a small mischievous smile, hidden under his crimson blush and his fringe. Demon Eyes claps.

"Shit, nice one mate," he sits a stripe and a circle 10 inches apart, and sets up the white ball to shoot. Adrian stands at the other end of the table, watching curiosly.

"Right, I'm going to hit the white, have it bounce in the space between them and roll into the hole without disturbing the other balls," He explains, looking up to ensure Adrian is following. Adrian is, and Demon Eyes pulls back the cue, sliding it back and hitting the white ball with extreme force.

It clacks off the stripe at the far end, making them shoot in opposite directions. The white ball flies off the table and crashes right into Adrian's crotch. "Holy shit!" Demon Eyes runs around the table, almost doubling up in laughter. "Are you Alright?!"

Adrian isn't. Tears bring in his eyes and he grips his crotch, weeping silently. Not from pain, but this entire thing is so humiliating. He can feel burning eyes on him, stares of curiosity and confusion, wondering what just happened. Most of all he hates that he's crying in front of this guy, making himself a fool and unworthy of his friendship. Who'd ever want to hang out with him after this?

He was a fool to consider himself at those standards. He feels so awkward when he stands back up, trying to pretend like he wasn't just crying. It's so fucking obvious, Demon Eyes shakes his head with in amusement. "Where'd the white go?" He doesn't remember hearing it drop and looks under the table.

Adrian takes his hands away from his crotch and in one is the white ball. He holds it up proudly, feeling accomplished with himself again, having recovered from his loss. Sure, Demon Eyes beat him, but he also screwed up a simple trick after bragging. Cocky prick - serves him right, Adrian thinks. Demon Eyes extends a hand. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis. You are?"

He doesn't know what to answer, his first thought being that Sebastian Michaelis is a sexy-sounding name, especially when spoken in such an accent. "A-Adrian Crevan," he forces our, straining every syllable. He knows already that he's failing at this. How long are handshakes supposed to last again? This one feels like it's been going on for an absurd eternity.

Eventually they let go, and stand there awkwardly. "Do you wanna have lunch?"

Adrian shakes his head. He doesn't think he could stomach anything after that jarring experience.

"I meant with me?" Sebastian offers, rolling his eyes. "You've never had a proper friend before - have you?"

Adrian hasn't. Instead of admitting this he does the (slightly) less traumatic thing and grabs Sebastian's hand, dragging him under the canopy and into the hotel cafeteria, which is thankfully just right of the patio doors. Adrian makes a cheese sandwich, because the rest of the options have weird French names he doesn't know. Sebastian collects various miniature things in a bowl and constructs s fruit salad for himself. They take a small two-seater behind a pillar, where Adrian is protected from the eyes of other diners. 

"So, do you have a speech impediment?" Sebastian asks bluntly, using a fork to mix random fruit pieces with yoghurt. "Or social anxiety?"

Adrian isn't sure whether or not to be honest. "P-People make me nerv-nervous," he says eventually, telling Sebastian he has social anxiety without having to admit it. Again, he feels like such a weirdo. Sebastian just nods.

"That's fine man, I got depression," Sebastian pulls back his wristband to reveal large cuts trailing over his wrist, of varying stages of healing. It looks like he picked up a butcher's knife and went to fucking town on himself. "The bands are meant to help me stop cutting - they sting against the cuts,"

That makes no sense, but kay. Adrian frowns. He's 13, he wonders what normal 13 year olds talk about. "What d'you wan' ta be when you grow up?" He asks finally. Sebastian gives him a look, and he knows he's been weird again.

"A burlesque dancer," answers the older boy.

"Wha' is that?"

"Like a stripper but classy," Sebastian answers. Alright then. "You?"

"An Undataka'," Adrian answers.

"Why?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. "I've always wan'ed ta be one,"

"Hm," Sebastian ponders him for a long while. "It suits you, as a title I mean. Yes, I can see it,"

Adrian smiles, that's affirming. "Sebas'ian?"

"Hm?"

"Are we friends?"

Slightly amused again, Sebastian nods. "I suppose we are now,"

*

So that's my prologue. It gets better I swear.
Also the crotch thing actually happened. I was in the Boy's Juniors Club for snooker as a preteen and witnessed someone take a ball to the dick because someone was bragging about a trick he couldn't do.
Sebastian has depression, which won't be expired as much in this as other things because he isn't really a main character.
Adrian, or Undertaker, has social anxiety and GAD, as well as ASD. He's basically a stretched string of nerves ready to snap at any point. Enjoy.