The Friendly Ghost (Jack Frost fanfic)

Chapter 20 Believe

Charlie Truth closed his bedroom door and slumped down in his bed. He rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers and sighed heavily. He turned his head to the side to look at the clock. It was 12:17 am. He sat up and tossed his black leather jacket across the room. He was wearing a black, V neck T-shirt, baggy jeans and black boots. Boxes were piled in the corner of the room which contained his belongings. Most of his room was empty except for the stationary, books and a single photo of him and his family when he was younger on his desk. He stared at the girl standing next to him when he was a child. His sister. He had never forgotten her death. After all, he was there. He watched her die and he didn't do anything about it. Even though he was only a child when it happened he still beat himself up for it. Ever since her death he hasn't laughed. Not once. He had a tough time at school. He was always picked on and he always got into fights. He wasn't very social either. He usually just moped around in the forest until late hours and then went to bed. 

He didn't bother changing out of his clothes, or even getting under the covers. He put his hands behind his had and stared at the ceiling. A few minuets later, he heard some sort of crackling sound. He blinked and turned his head towards the large window and out into the dark sky. Then his attention turned from outside to the glass. His eyes narrowed when he saw frost curl up from the bottom corner of the window and spread out across the windowpane. He sat up and watched intently with curious eyes. How was something like that even possible? It wasn't even that cold outside. Then he realised that the frost wasn't on the outside, it was on the inside. 

When the frost entirely covered the window pane, Charlie's eyes widened when he saw that something, or someone, was drawing in it. No, not drawing, writing. He read it aloud and gasped. 

"Hello, Charlie."  

Charlie shook his head. Who could be doing this? Whoever it was they was writing on frost. Frost... 

"Jack Frost?" He said. Then he scoffed at himself for thinking such a thing. No, Jack Frost wasn't real. He was just a myth. Was he? Charlie may be twenty three but Sophia always told him about Jack Frost when he was younger. Ever since her death he held on to each precious memory. He always believed in Jack Frost as he was growing up. He stopped believing years ago however but in a small corner of his heart he still believed. The writing started again. He stood up and walked closer. 

'That's me.' It said. 

Charlie jumped and fell back onto his bed when a boy with white hair wearing a blue hoodie suddenly appeared in front of him. He stared at him, his eyes wide. The boy's eyes were a striking blue, his hair was as white as snow, in his right hand was a long stick in the resemblance of a shepherd's crook, frost gathered around the collar of his hoodie, he was wearing brown pants which were torn and tattered at the end and he was barefoot. Charlie stood up again and walked closer to the boy. He looked around seventeen. 

"Who are you...?" He whispered. 

Jack chuckled. "I think you already know the answer to that, Charlie."  

Charlie shook his head. He couldn't believe it. "I'm dreaming..." He told himself. 

Jack shook his head, his white locks bouncing as he did so. "You're not dreaming." He said. 

Charlie blinked hard. He even slapped himself in the face just to be sure. Jack winced and raised his eyebrow at him when Charlie held his cheek. "Ow!" He complained. 

"O-kaaay...still believe this is a dream?" 

Charlie chuckled and smiled at Jack. "I can't believe it, y-you're real!" 

"Yep!" Jack laughed and jumped up, making white snowflakes fall to the ground.  

Charlie held out his hand and watched as the snowflakes melted as soon as they touched his skin. It was snowing in his room. This was unbelievable. He looked up at Jack with wide eyes. Then something hit him. "Not that I'm complaining, but why are you here?" He asked.