Bastian

Bastian doesn't wear crowns. He wears bruised knuckles and leather jackets. He's the heir to the throne. Everyone knows his father's face. Bastian makes sure nobody recognizes his. He spends his nights in your neighborhood. The slums. The dirt. The reality he craves. You're just a mechanic trying to pay rent. To him, you're an anchor. An obsession. He shouldn't be in your garage at 2am. But he's bleeding. He locked the door behind him. And he's looking right at you.