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Jack didn’t have many friends growing up. He knew everyone, of course. It was a small village and he'd always been a loud kid. Maybe that was the problem, though. The other kids laughed at his jokes and their parents indulged him with small smiles, but Jack knew he was different. He was louder, wilder, faster than the other kids. It had been fun when they were all younger, chasing each other through the woods and splashing in the streams, but as everyone else had grown old and grown up, put time into chores and labor and starting families, Jack found himself more and more alone. Everyone still said hi to him, waved as he passed, even came out to play occasionally, but it was different. The other teens wanted to sit and talk, whisper about girls and boys and secrets. Jack didn't get it. He'd try and try to listen but eventually the energy would burst from his skin and he'd try to start a game of tag, only for no one else to join in. He was too old to play with the children and too childish to hang out with the other teenagers. He saw how they looked at him, confusion and pity in their eyes. He heard their parents whisper behind his back: 'that Jack kid needs to grow up, needs to settle down.'
Jack had friends. Everyone was nice to him. But he wasn't close to anyone except his sister, and there were some things he just couldn't tell her. How could he explain the ache of loneliness in his chest? How could he tell her that he felt so alone and isolated and strange when everyday she saw him laughing with his friends? How could he possibly let her know that he didn't feel like he belonged here, but there was nowhere else to go? What could he say?
He started spending more time alone. He'd make his own fun, no one to laugh at him or complain that his games were stupid. It was long, lonely work, but it got him through.
It was after one of those long days that he first saw him. It was already dark, the moon casting the world in silver and blue, and Jack was taking a shortcut across a frozen pond. He shuffled to the middle so he could get a good look at the moon, full and blindingly bright without the obstruction of trees. When Jack raised his head to stare at the sky his gaze skated over an unfamiliar shape at the crest of a nearby overhang.
Up on the hill a lone figure stood gazing at the moon. It looked like a man in a long, dark cloak, his silhouette just a black shadow in the moonlight. Jack stared, utterly enthralled by this strange being. Although he looked human there was something about him that drew Jack in, as old and unknowable as a siren's call. He felt a tug in his chest, the otherworldly presence of the man making him take a step forward.
Something crunched beneath Jack's foot and he glanced down to see that he'd stepped on a dry leaf. When he looked up again the man was gone. Jack stared at the spot where he'd been, wondering if he'd imagined it all. He glanced at the moon, still glowing down at him even as the sky grew darker. He should probably head home.
The next night he went out again, going back to the lake. Purple was just starting to seep into the blue of the sky but the moon already shone overhead. Anticipation fizzed in Jack's chest as he stepped onto the ice, looking again toward the overhang.
He was there. The man had returned, standing just as he had before, stark black against the sky as he gazed at the moon. Jack stared at him as if in a trance, a strange stillness overtaking his body. There was something about the man that both fascinated and frightened Jack. He was so mysterious, so odd, and there was something about him that seemed… off. Jack squinted, looking closer. What was it? Perhaps the man was too tall or too still, too dark where the moonlight should have illuminated his face. Jack stared, tilting his head. He shuffled forward a half step and it was at that moment that the man turned, looking directly at Jack like he knew the boy had been watching him. Glowing yellow eyes pierced into Jack’s very soul, filling his body with dread as the boy scrambled to turn around.
But Jack couldn't get traction on the ice. He slipped, falling to his hands and knees as the hair on the back of his neck began to rise. He flipped around to see a dark, looming figure just a few feet away from him, those same golden eyes glowing from a face obscured in shadows. The man was standing here, somehow still shrouded in darkness. But that was impossible. He'd been hundreds of feet away just seconds ago, he couldn't have possibly moved that fast unless…
Jack tried to stand but he couldn't get his feet under him. All he could do was scoot himself backward a few inches, but the figure just came closer, gliding across the ice in a way no normal human could.
The being tilted his head, leaning forward. Finally the shadows retreated from his face, revealing skin gray as ash. "Can you see me, boy?"
The deep, smooth voice rumbled through Jack's bones. Jack's skin prickled as he nodded. "A-are you a demon?" he whispered.
A smile spread across the man's face and for a moment Jack thought he saw the glint of pointed teeth before the man swooped closer, shadows billowing around him as if they were alive, eyes burning like hellfire as he hissed, "I'm worse."
Jack's breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound so hard his chest ached. This man, this creature, whatever he was - he was going to kill Jack. Jack was going to die here, alone, in the dark, scared and helpless. Tears burned in his eyes, his vision beginning to blur. He didn't want to die here, not like this, but what could he do? All he could process was the paralyzing fear that this was the end, the utter certainty that his life would end with no one to witness it, with nothing for him to be proud of, that he would die alone.
The man reached out, a soft, warm hand cupping Jack's cheek. Jack let out a strangled sob as tears escaped his eyes, only to be wiped away by the man's gentle touch, his thumb swiping over Jack's cheek. It had been so long since Jack had been touched like this - carefully, reverently. He had to swallow down another stinging sob, but this time for a completely different reason.
"But," the creature continued, trapping Jack in that citrine gaze. "I like you. So you may call me Pitch." Suddenly the touch dropped away, leaving Jack's skin cold. "Call for me when you are afraid."
Jack rubbed at his eyes, opening his mouth to ask what exactly that meant, but when he looked up the man was gone, as if he'd never been there at all.
The experience haunted Jack. He peered in every shadow, searching for glowing golden eyes, but it wasn’t until about a week later that the two of them crossed paths again. Jack had been hanging out with the other boys. They’d been sitting around the back of one of the storehouses, sipping some ale that one of them had smuggled away from the storehouse. The other boys said it made talking more fun, made their heads spin a little, but to Jack it just tasted bad.
They were whispering about girls, talking about how they look and smell and feel. Jack didn't really say anything. He wasn’t really interested in girls. He wasn’t really interested in anyone… at least not like that. It all seemed… gross. He missed when they could all just run around and laugh with each other. The idea made Jack smile and suddenly he knew just what to do. He swatted one of the other boys on the shoulder, shouting "you're it," before darting out of arms reach.
Jack expected them to follow, but the other boys just stared at him. "Why're you being weird?" one of them asked.
Jack faltered, but he plastered a smile on his face nonetheless. "C'mon, don't you guys wanna have some fun?"
The boys exchanged glances. One of them shrugged. "We are having fun."
"A lot more fun than playing a kids game," another remarked, prompting a few soft chuckles.
Shame, hot and familiar, twisted in Jack's gut. They were laughing at him. He turned away, tugging his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders.
"Hey, c'mon, Jack, just come sit," someone called. "We can play a game after."
But Jack just shook his head and grit his teeth, fighting back tears. He felt so stupid. Why was he like this? Why couldn’'t he be like the others?
He headed toward home, but as he passed a cabin he glimpsed a group of girls inside. He saw them glance at him, whisper to each, then laugh. Jack ducked his head down, gut churning. Suddenly he couldn't stand the idea of being home, trying to explain to his mother why he was on the edge of tears and the sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn't stand the idea of being around anyone right now, so he turned and headed into the woods, trudging through snow as the din in his head grew louder.
It started as a dull buzz but the voices got louder and louder. Over and over he heard the kids laughing, taunting him. The shame and loneliness grew sharp and stinging, cutting at his insides. His ears rang. All he could register was the frothing self hatred rising in his chest, filling his lungs until he couldn't think about anything else. He curled up at the base of a tree and tried to breathe, vision blurring as his awareness ebbed and flowed.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he realized that it was snowing. Thick flakes came to rest on his clothes before melting away, a thin layer already starting to cover his tracks.
Jack scrambled to his feet and realized how bitingly cold it already was. His breath puffed white and cloud-like in front of him as he began to head back.
He doesn't know where he is. His tracks have been covered by the new snow and a howling wind ripping through the forest, shrill as a scream as it cuts through his clothes. Jack is shaking uncontrollably. The parts of his body that don't feel numb ache, his joints growing stiff. His clothes are wet, caked with snow and ice. Jack stumbles forward, squinting at the trees around him. The sun set fast and it's already dark. Combined with the storm, Jack can barely see a few feet in front of himself.
Just as he's thinking about hunkering down and trying to wait the storm out, his foot slips on an embankment and before he can stop himself he's sliding down a small incline, feet splashing into running water.
Jack freezes, intense, shocking pain wracking his body. He stands knee deep in a stream of frigid water, every nerve blaring. He struggles out of the water, clawing himself to the bank. His hands, his legs, his whole body feels like it's on fire, the cold licking into a strange searing heat. Jack heaves, sobs ripping from his chest as he tries to think past the overwhelming pain and fear. He's going to die here, alone and cold and terrified.
He does the only thing he can think of: he clasps his hands together and prays to the one god he knows. "Pitch, please… help me." He repeats the words over and over, tears freezing on his cheeks as his head grows heavy. He's tired, so tired that the pain doesn't even feel that bad anymore. Just as his eyes begin to drift shut he sees a dark figure loom over him, ashen arms lifting him off the ground and cradling him against a warm chest. He glimpses golden eyes before the world goes dark.
Jack wakes up in front of a raging fire, blankets piled on top of him. "Jack's awake!" he hears his sister cry and soon his mom's face comes hovering into view. She presses her hand to his forehead, giving a small smile before her expression turns stern.
"Never do that again, young man! If you see a storm coming you come straight home, you hear? You would have frozen to death if that man didn't drop you off."
Jack sits up, only to be pushed back down by his mother. "A man dropped me off? Who? What did he look like?" Jack presses, though he lays back down.
His mother's brow furrows. "I, uh… I don't know actually. Someone just knocked on the door and when I went to open it they were gone, just left you there curled up on the ground. They must've carried you back here but I don't have the slightest clue where they went after that or why they didn't stick around when they brought you back."
"Oh." Jack settles back into the blankets, letting his mother dote on him as his mind races.
It's a few days before his mother lets him gallivant around unsupervised again, but Jack is already back to his old self and burning with curiosity. When his mom finally seems convinced he won't pass out at the slightest winter chill, he heads out at dusk, going to the pond where he first met Pitch.
Under a navy blue sky Jack stares at the moon, clasping his hands together once more. “Pitch,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. He stands there, counting his breaths, until the world goes silent around him, as if a blanket has been laid over the lake. He opens his eyes to see a dark figure standing in front of him, yellow eyes glowing out from a sea of black. Jack swallows, throat thick with nerves. “You-” he croaks, voice cracking. He licks his lips and tries again. “You saved me.”
Pitch glides closer, smile revealing teeth sharp as a shark’s. “I always will,” Pitch murmurs, voice deep and smooth.
And Jack believes him.
They spend time together. On days when Jack feels like no one in the world wants him as he is and when Pitch is content to just listen to Jack ramble, they sit under the stars. It’s a gentle thing, slow and soft and strange, but there’s a comfort to it. Jack knows someone is looking out for him, protecting him. But even this cannot last forever.
Pitch watches Jack plummet through the ice. He lunges forward, hands outstretched, but he gets caught in the moonlight, frozen in place by his oldest friend and enemy. Pitch looks to the sky, still struggling to advance even though he can’t make any forward progress. “Please!” he begs. “Please let me save him!” The moon stares back, silent as ever. Pitch presses forward, the beams of moonlight like the steel bars of a cage keeping him from the one person he swore to protect. “Just let me do this one thing, please! Please!” But the moon doesn’t answer. He never does.
Pitch doesn’t know how long he waits there but eventually Jack rises from the ice, both exactly the same and dramatically changed. Pitch holds his breath as Jack’s eyes, those eyes which were once the only ones to see him, skate over Pitch as if he’s not even there.
He watches Jack for a while. When the boy heads toward the village Pitch slinks into the shadows. He’s seen everything he needs to. Jack is both safe and irreparably gone. Pitch knows what he’ll find in the village. Pitch knows that whatever had bloomed between them died under that ice. Whatever it was, whatever it could have been, is over now.
Pitch sinks down, down, down, into the deepest, darkest shadows of the earth, and promises himself to never love again.