The two teenage boys were seemingly normal. They were obviously brothers, best friends, that sort of thing. One with dark hair, blue eyes, a black hoodie, and the other quite the same, though his hair was white and his hoodie was blue.
The one in the blue was named Jack. The other more darker one was called Jay.
Both were laughing, sarcastic, snarky, little pathetic things.
Pitch Blacks' lip curled in a sinister smile. Yes, they could pretend they didn't yearn for attention or love, but Pitch knew. He knew the one hundred and fifty years alone could make you desperate.
All they had were each other. That was the only thing they cared about.
And Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, the Lord of the Shadows, knew this. He knew it all too well.
For he was going to use it against them.
And they would fall immediately into his trap.