Believe in Me

Perfect Day, Endless Pain

^o^ Fifty fifth chapter. This story is long... but I'm really really enjoying wriiting it. Thank you so much for reading even after all of this time, I cant tell you how thankful I am.

A small, delicate hand, free from the wears of age extended to the clouded morning skies. The dewy grass seeped into the fabrics on his back, but after the slight chill it gave, he grew used to the water and lost any care of the way it made his shirt stick to his skin. If anything, it was a nice day. The air felt cool, a gentle breeze cascading over the short, fresh patches of grass surrounding him.  The sun was shaded with soft, faintly grey clouds, and the smell of coming rain hung across his nose. It was a nice day… but no nice day feels right alone.

The boy had felt slightly dead inside ever since he made the final decision to leave his close friend, the one that didn’t even realize he had a form. He felt lonely, forgotten, only wanted when he was needed and never minded anytime else. He never knew how to make Jack see him, Jack or anyone else for that matter… but he followed the winter spirit anyways, smiled when he smiled, laughed at his jokes, got satisfaction from his happiness and was sitting at his side when he was upset. He loved Jack, the teen was so happy, upbeat through the worst of situations and, in his childlike naivety, the wind spirit always had a feeling in the embraces of his heart that one day Jack would look over, tilt his head slightly in confusion, and then those turquoise eyes would light up as he addressed the boy who had longed to be spoken to directly for forever. The Man in the Moon specifically asked him when he was born to accompany the spirit, to help him… but there was never any reward. Despite all of the times the wind would look over and think he saw Jack looking his way, just to realize his glance was directed at something else entirely, all of the times he carried the older boy around safely to where he needed to go… he was, and never really would be acknowledged. So when he overheard the guardians’ conversation on Pitch taking in lonely, uncared for spirits… he jumped to it. Pitch Black was evil, he knew it from being along-side Jack in the entire first fight against the nightmare king, but he wanted so badly to be noticed, the knowledge completely evaded his mind. He worked hard for Pitch, left Jack completely and switched his loyalty despite his heart screaming to go back, to go back to his best friend… the best friend that didn’t care back. It shattered him to see how Jack didn’t even notice he left until an order wasn’t answered, it shredded his hopes until all that was left was anger, sadness, a bitter emotion built up towards the snow-boy… but even with all of that, he couldn’t help but miss him. 

So now he was here, one of Pitch’s more favored spirits in the growing army. He was quiet, followed orders, didn’t get too worked up and didn’t need much to keep his loyalties going… but he didn’t feel any more cared about. He felt noticed, the nightmare king would often tell him something to do and give him minor praise for it afterwards, something that Jack never did, but if anything, he felt less happy than ever. There was little laughter other than the chuckles Chaos would expel from poking at the reaper they had managed to contain, there was no love in that building at all unless the spirits Viola ‘charmed’ for the fun of it counted… he was in a crowd of darkness, corrupt spirits who didn’t care about the good of the world anymore.. and he was the only one who still regretted all of the bad things he did. He was all alone…

Pitch had grown to trust him, and that wasn’t anything bad on his part. It wasn’t like the wind was going to run away, he couldn’t rebel worth anything, he would possibly be killed. Unlike Ilia (he had overheard what she did when Chaos was snarling about how messed up his hand was), the boy couldn’t find the courage to rise against anyone, he had been a helper all his life, and though he had power, he couldn’t find the strength to use it against them no matter how much he wanted out of the whole mess. The most of an act of rebellion that he could pull off was helping Ilia out of the crate before Chaos got to shredding her and giving Death his weapon back… He had left the lair, giving a quiet claim that he wanted to enjoy the pleasant morning, but in all honesty he was terrified. Once Pitch found out that Grey Loss was armed and invincible once again, once Chaos came back to find the small girl he was to take his anger out on was gone, and once the entire crew of Pitch’s army realized that he had personally asked the two to save Jack Frost, the spirit that the nightmare king had been waiting ages to be able to tear apart… The boy wasn’t sure if this was any better or worse than directly smacking his ruler in the face. He was dead… there was no way he’d get out of this. He didn’t even know why he did it, he was still mad at Jack, his heart still broken into pieces that seemed to have been cracked and left forgotten for ages. Even with this he would probably be killed before the winter spirit could thank him if he was even going to, for all the wind knew Pitch could be coming to get him right now. Maybe he didn’t know yet… it was surprising that he wouldn’t. Maybe the nightmare king was waiting for him to return to knock him down, punish him in front of his comrads and the guardians alike. No… maybe he’d just stay here.. it was a beautiful day after all. A peaceful morning… and with how things were going to turn out… it was going to be his very last one.