Night's Children: Dum Spiro, Spero

AN: Almost done :o)

Part Three: The Prodigy

Chapter One: Gifts

The early morning sunlight was filtering in through the cracks in the blinds as a boy sat behind a counter miserably chewing a bowl of Cheerios. At the table, a wiry middle-aged man was flipping through the paper, sneaking glances at the morose boy between headlines. Finally, the man sighed and set down his paper on the table, eyes resting on his son.

"Trysten, what's wrong?" He asked with a well-worn tone of fatherly concern.

Trysten scowled and took a gingerly sip of orange juice.

"Your mom made you pancakes before she went to work, you know," The man tried again, gesturing to a stack of flapjacks that had goofy smiley faces and the words 'Happy 13th!' drawn with icing on them.

His son's eyes lingered somewhat on the flapjacks, before his scowl returned in place, "I don't want them," He said, traces of a pout in his words.

The man, Jeb Hatfield, felt a smirk crawl up onto his face when he realized what this was about, "I take it you're still mad that we got you a guitar for your birthday?"

The boy's expressions flitted between anger, shame and guilt before his attention focused solely on the Cheerios again.

Jeb laughed, the crow's eyes around his fifty year old face becoming more pronounced with the action as he stood up, "Tell you what, you practice that guitar, and we'll get you that dog for Christmas." He paused and took a sip of his coffee, "Deal?"

Trysten swerved on his seat, and Jeb took a moment to observe his adopted son. Auburn hair was cut short, barely brushing the tops of his ears, and his face was still a bit chubby and boyish looking. His eyes were portraying his excitement, however, even as he mumbled out a detached, "Whatever."

Jeb inwardly chuckled, knowing that Trysten was at that age where liking your parents wasn't cool, and he slowly stood up, tucking his paper under his arm, "Well, I'm off to work," He said jovially, ruffling Trysten's hair affectionately on the way out, "Have a good birthday."

Trysten's nose wrinkled with the action, "Daaad," He groaned in exasperation as Jeb exited the Hatfield home. The boy looked around carefully, and when he realized he was all alone, he immediately scooped the Cheerios down the sink and started to dig into the flapjacks his mom had made.

Sneakered feet connected frantically against the pavement as boyish hands struggled to pull on his jacket while running. Having dawdled, Trysten now found himself running severely late for school. Several well-kept apartments darted by him as he sprinted down the road towards his junior high school, thankful that he was involved in track.

Trysten's eyes darted from his watch to his surroundings, and his running feet came to an abrupt halt in front of an alleyway. He skidded to a stop and eyed the intimidating alley that was surrounded on both sides by chain link fence. Across from it was the business section of his neighborhood, one that was somewhat notorious for petty crimes such as theft and vandalism.

It was also a shortcut to Trysten's school.

"Shitshitshit," Trysten muttered, as warnings from his mother echoed in his head. Although the new teenager hated to admit it, he was a bit of a momma's boy, and he found himself hesitating to break the rules she had set out for him. Finally, he rolled his eyes, "Fuck it," He mumbled as he jogged down the alley towards the busy main street.

He agilely maneuvered around several people who were walking down the crowded sidewalk, absently making sure not to bump into anyone in his rush. Despite the cool guy image he sought, Trysten was still somewhat of a walking guilt complex and didn't want to be rude despite his urgency to get to school.

However, despite his earnest attempts at agility, his foot snagged on the opposite shoe's lace, causing him to pitch forward, straight into a fellow pedestrian.

"Shit, I'm sorry-!" He apologized quickly, color flooding his cheeks as a strong, black finger nailed hand gripped his somewhat pudgy bicep, trying to balance him. Trysten, startled at the physical contact, looked up and felt his eyes go wide.

Of all people he had to almost knock over, of course it happened to be the one who looked like he could easily kick the shit out of him. The man, maybe twenty something, was clad head to toe in black, a long trench coat over some sort of mesh contraption of a shirt. The sun glinted off the multiple piercings in his face, and his shaved head revealed tattoos scrawled across the scalp. Trysten swallowed hard, especially when he noticed that the stranger's eyes seemed to be staring straight into his skull. Awkwardly, he tried to tug his arm free, but the stranger's grip remained steady.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to go or I'll be late-" he blubbered quickly like the good natured thirteen year old he was.

The man's jaw had dropped slightly, and his metal eyebrows seemed to rise slightly in astonishment. "What's your name, kid?"

He froze, "Uh, Trysten." He said, too nervous to come up with a decent lie.

The man's dropped jaw transformed into a crooked little smile, "Trysten." He echoed.

The boy, having quite frankly had enough of this weirdo, quickly and harshly tugged his arm away. The man's grip went lax, and before he could process his uncanny discovery, Trysten had already started sprinting in the direction of his school.

"Trysten," he repeated again, the crooked smile becoming feral.

Despite the bizarre run in of his morning, the rest of the day at school drifted in a rather mundane blur. A few 'Happy Birthdays!' from his friends and the girls that liked him (there were more of the latter rather than the former), and a few reprimands for being late from his homeroom teacher. But either way, when the last bell of the day rang, he found himself very relieved to be going home.

His feet scuffled over to his locker, and he bent low, fiddling with the spin combination so he could get his homework out and leave.

"Hey, Trystie, happy birthday!" came a sing-song voice directly above him.

Trysten rolled his eyes at the unfortunate nickname, as he grunted out, "Hello Addie."

Addie was a girl his age, and secretly one of his admires. Trysten, of course, was wonderfully oblivious to this, and just thought it was weird how she was always around.

"Doing anything special tonight?" She chirped, constantly upbeat, as she nervously messed with the several jelly bracelets around her wrists, rocking back and forth on her platform boots.

Trysten shrugged, popping open the door and silently putting textbooks into his bag.

"Is that a yes or a no?" She asked cheekily, crouching down next to him.

"Probably a no," he said flatly.

"Oh. Do you want to do something special?" He didn't notice the hopeful tone to her voice.

Trysten just lifted his bag, "Probably not." He said, not trying to be callous, but being unfortunately blunt. He started walking towards the exit and Addie pouted, feeling a bit let down. However, she quickly seemed to change her expression, as she chased after him.

"Want to walk me home?"

Trysten rose an eyebrow in confusion, "That's out of the way."

Addie huffed, and the two exited the building side by side. Her bright green eyes roved around the campus as she walked alongside THE Trysten Hatfield, hoping that all the other girls would see and get jealous. It was one of those junior high things where it wasn't even necessarily about the boy in question, more like a competition for social standing. Her gaze widened when she saw a man standing aloofly next to the school's outdoor fountain.

"Creepy," she whispered dramatically, elbowing Trysten, "Take a look at that weirdo!"

Trysten sighed heavily, not really interested in looking at anyone, weirdo or otherwise, but he figured it'd be less effort in the end, and he froze when he saw the person who appeared to be waiting for him.

"Shit." He muttered.

Addie turned and looked at him, "What, you know him or something?" A pause, "Oh my gosh he's totally coming over here!" Unconsciously, she shuffled behind the boy.

Trysten watched as the scary man from earlier strode gracefully over to the two young teens. A slight bounce was in his step, and all that was missing was the comical whistling. Trysten froze when he realized he had quite possible antagonized a sadistic mass murderer that morning.

"Hey Trysten," he said, his voice deep and dark.

Addie's hand gripped his, but he didn't notice, being to preoccupied with fearing for his life. "…what do you want?" He ventured carefully.

"I realized I didn't introduce myself when I met you this morning," the lip quirked up again, "My name's Tymmie."

Trysten took a safe step back, Addie mimicked his motion, "I don't care. Leave me alone!" He stammered.

Addie's eyes darted between Trysten and the man, "Um, Trysten, I'll see you tomorrow. Haveagoodbirthdaycallme!" She declared quickly before fleeing the scene, presumably to call 911.

The man snorted, "You're kind of a brat, aren't you?" He scrutinized him, "It's to be expected, I suppose." He took another step closer and Trysten felt his heart jump into his throat.

"Stay away from me!" He yelled.

Tymmie laughed, and extended his index finger. Trysten flinched as it tapped gently against his forehead. Something akin to the feeling of an electric shock went through him, and his frame went rigid.

"Cute kid," Tymmie commented snidely, before going to leave, "You can find me at a place called The Fourth Wall when you need me."

And that was the last thing Trysten heard before his vision went black.