Snowflakes And Shadow Crowns

All's Fair In Love and War

He really had no idea how he'd ended up like this, his thin form shoved against a cold stone wall in Pitch's lair, sticking desperately to the shadows by a corner like glue.

Or, well, he knew how. The real matter was what.

In all honesty, it hadn't occurred to Jack what to do when he'd actually got to the Boogeyman's hide out. He was well aware of the danger it posed to his reputation on both sides, but he would be lying if he said that he'd actually thought up a plan before rushing out of North's workshop like some lovesick teenager. Now it would seem that it was too late to fabricate some form of execution, nor think of the consequences.

Just like he'd feared, the Guardians had gotten there first. The big four were scouting every inch of Pitch's tunnels and it took all of Jack's willpower to still his frantic heartbeat as he pushed himself closer to the wall.

"I'd say Pitch is gone but let us not underestimate enemy! He could still be here." Jack bit his lip in an attempt to distract himself as North's voice echoed throughout the dark chambers, his swords drawn. Ever since Jack had arrived, there was no sign of the Nightmare King anywhere, and although he was relieved that Pitch might have left before the Guardians had arrived, there was still the possibility that he was indeed still lurking around in the shadows, just like he was. Pitch's very being was made up of darkness, and so that meant he had the upper-hand. If the shade decided to catch the four unawares, then it was painfully obvious who would come out victorious, and that revelation was more than enough to ruffle Jack's nerves.

He wanted Pitch to thrive; he had become friends with the Nightmare King after all and didn't want to see him hurt again, but the Guardians were his friends too, and Jack knew Pitch wouldn't hold back like they had. He would kill them--spirits or not--he'd kill them, and Jack didn't know if he could stop him, or the Guardians for that matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw something move within the darkness; he whipped his head around to identify the object but saw nothing. His heart grew even more frantic, and he tried desperately to keep his quickened breathing quiet. Glancing around wildly, moving nothing but his eyes, Jack willed himself invisible as an eerie feeling poked fun at him.

I-It was a trick of the eyes...there's nothing there...there's nothing...

Taking in a quiet deep breath, Jack turned his gaze back to the Guardians from around the corner he was tucked behind, his body aching and stiff, but he ignored it; he dared not move.

"Pitch, get your arse out here, now!" Jack flinched slightly as Bunnymund shouted into the abyss, the Pooka's voice startling him. As the other's continued their search, Jack was suddenly aware of things darting to and fro within the shadows all around him, things that the Guardians couldn't see, but he began to feel them as they whizzed by; silent whispers filtered by his ears and put him on edge. He was aware that the other's continued to speak but, as the rustling in the shadows grew restless, Jack was completely deaf to their voices; his fear gripped him and toyed with his insides. He began to feel light headed as feral instincts began to take over, and it took everything he had to keep himself locked in place. His muscles tensed, and he would have screamed as a pair of firm hands grabbed him if it were not for the digits covering his mouth; he was dragged into the very wall he had set himself against.

"How kind of you to visit me, Frost." Everything around him was solid blackness, and a pang of guilt echoed within his chest as the words were spat at him; venom was sunk within each syllable. Pitch was upset with him. Very upset with him, and although fear threatened to swallow him whole, Jack was somewhat relieved that the Boogeyman was hurt, even if it was all his fault. That meant he had at least meant something to the shade, and was not just an annoyance that was good to be rid of.

"I'm sorry," Jack said dejectedly, not bothering to stand as he sat on his knees in the darkness. "I know I left without saying goodbye."

"Left?" Pitch growled, his voice twisting all around Jack. "You disappeared, for God's sake!" The darkness parted suddenly, light flooding in and revealing the Nightmare King's infuriated scowl. Jack swallowed hard and said nothing as the man looked down at him dangerously. "And without a goodbye?" Pitch scoffed. "You didn't say anything. No goodbye, no warning, no, 'Hey, I'm just going to have nothing to do with you now!' Just, poof, and you're fucking gone!" The man was shouting, and Jack didn't know what to say.

"I-I..."

"And to make matters worse." He inched closer. "When you finally decide to show up after weeks of your vanishing act, you bring along your goddamn pity party to ridicule me!" Pitch reached down and suddenly wrapped his knuckles in the front of Jack's hoodie and pulled him forcibly off the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Jack frantically said in protest, but Pitch wasn't listening.

"What the hell are you trying to accomplish with these tricks?" Intense, betrayed gold met fearful cerulean, and Jack could feel the other's exasperated breath on his neck. A pulse of fear shot through him, followed by a shiver of excitement. He'd never been this close to Pitch before. Never close enough to feel the man's breath.    

  Jack knew he was probably about to be killed, but right now he really, really couldn't help staring at thin, grey lips and imagining just how soft they'd be against his own chapped ones. He knew he should probably try to explain to Pitch that he was avoiding him because he needed time to sort out his thoughts, not because he was plotting against him. Not because he was trying to bring the Guardians here.

  But because he'd finally begun to realize that he was madly in love with him. 

  Would Pitch even believe him? Even if he did there's no way he'd like him back. He'd just gone and pissed in the Boogeyman's cheerios, of course he didn't love him. If anything, he probably hated him. 

  But he really just couldn't stop staring...

  Pitch was forming words, probably cursing at him. Telling him how much of a screw up he was and how much he hated him. That was okay. That was enough for him. Because Pitch was here and suddenly Jack realised that it was all so real. He could touch him; he could feel his knuckles laced in his hoodie. Feel his breath and his warmth that seemed to radiate off of him like death off of a pile of corpses. And the analogy fit the man so perfectly; his anger would have been contagious if Jack's rationality wasn't so thoroughly disabled by just being in the man's presence. He'd never noticed how much of an impact Pitch had on him.

  And he never noticed until he'd already leaned closer and put his pale pink lips to furious grey ones.