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At first, it was only watching the glittering snow from the shadows. This was a region where there could be constant snow, storms were no stranger, and cloudy days reigned with a unwavering hand. He had spent a day observing from the shadows, from underneath creaking wooden steps, undersides of automobiles, and emerged fully once the sun set. Which happened in the early hours of the afternoon. Fear never remained for long in one place.
It had taken a day of observation, because he wanted to be sure he had been watching the right person. If this truly was who he sought, if it was worth it for his later intentions.
He'd found the right room before the light had first been turned on. But now, where the moon hung as a lone orb in the sky tonight unaccompanied by any stars, he found a shadow from the crack in the curtains. Eyes already set on the figure in the bed. Here Pitch could dwell in the darkness comfortably. The Man in the Moon could only offer a sliver of light, but it simply allowed his old friend observation. Not protection.
"So this is him."
He cast an idle glance back.
"He truly grew attached in such a short span of time. When the Guardians decided to hide him away, there wasn't any way they could be expecting this. A boy and a guardian, creating a bond of friendship."
With a sweep of his hand, the curtain shifted position, now blocking off the sliver of light. He looked toward the head of brown hair on the pillow. The one who lay in the bed had not yet reached adulthood, but he knew it to be that children of this age would no longer be able to see the Tooth Fairy or believe in Santa Claus. Once they reached adulthood, some even lost the capacity to dream, and even in this teen phase, they no longer need Sandman's assistance in dreams. No need of his own delivery of nightmares. The mind itself was able to summon both frightening and pleasing images alike.
"How does it feel?"
The one in the bed was turning away from him, and as Pitch continued to speak, he wasn't able to see the movement behind their eyelids. Pitch could see moonlight attempting to peer in from the ceiling.
"You knew Jack was among them. What I had done. How the former Guardian had bonded with these young ones. Especially him."
His hand had just began to reach for him, fingers brushing his shoulder when the boy jerked upright, hand first shooting toward the lamp switch and pulling himself from the bed. Back facing the door and bedroom now illuminated, he stared up at the presence in his room. Arm held upright as if in attempts to ward him off.
For a few seconds, there was simple silence. Not even the sound of the chilling wind outside. But Pitch came to smile, as they continued to watch one another.
"So you can see me."
He shook his head while blinking, breaking his stare and looking to the lamp. He didn't hasten a response to Pitch's statement.
"Maybe that's why you became special to him."
"You're the one who was talking to Jack. On Berserker."
"And did he inform you as to who I was?" He said with a smirk.
"Yeah." Said in a whisper.
He straightened, placing the arm to his side. Eyes flicking back to the bedroom door.
He turned his back to him, going to the exit, but luckily the lamp provided Pitch assistance. Inches from reaching the doorknob, Pitch had overtaken the shadow.
"I think it's a little soon to leave." He told him.
He still attempted to maintain a distance from Pitch, heading to the bed. Hand swiping the bedside stand.
But he could see his very reason for existence in the boy's eyes- growing fear.
"You don't know where Jack is?"
He shook his head.
"Oh, so he left without saying goodbye."
The boy narrowed his eyes. "If he were running from you, I could see why."
"Hiccup, he was once as unknown as I was. Both of us wanting to be seen, but no matter at our attempts kids would still run through us."
"He never seemed as if vying for attention." He said in a low voice.
Gaze still going to the curtain. Pitch knew he wouldn't chance it. There would be no venturing outside without something to guard against the cold.
"How could he properly express that he enjoys being seen?"
"He could be seen, because of what you did to him."
"And you can still see me regardless of whatever humanity I have in me. At your age, you still believe in the boogeyman."
"But you wouldn't be bringing up Jack if this visit was just because I can see you."
"No." Pitch took a pace. "He's hiding."
Hiccup slid off the other side of the bed, eyes wide. Pitch slipped into the shadows. Coming behind the young man. Unfortunately the boy slipped away before he could touch.
"I don't know where he went."
"He left, because he's already turning back into a Guardian. It was never permanent, and his fellow Guardians decided to place him on this island,"
"Out of your reach,"
"Putting him in school when he was a teenager from the pioneer era. Certainly quite an adjustment."
"Yeah, he did stand out a bit."
"In him telling you who I was, he must've had to reveal his true identity to you."
"He decided not to hide anything from me, and I didn't mind. There was a head of white hair, he had a staff-"
"Hiccup?" There was a gruff voice outside the door. "Who are you talking to?"
The named teenager turning his head toward the sound was all he needed. His attention off Pitch, he descended into the shadows. Allowing a single sound out of Hiccup's throat before Pitch reached out of the darkness. A hand covering his mouth and using the rest of his arm to pull him close.
The rest of the boy's response were muffled cries. His hand clutched Pitch's wrist, trying to pull his palm away to attempt a distress call to his father, but Pitch had a hand long enough to hold the boy's jaw shut. Simply sinking his fingers into Hiccup's cheek.
"He'll come looking for you." Pitch didn't bother to whisper, it wasn't as if the parent could hear him. "How could he forget you? Either of us."
He was struggling against him, hand not releasing his wrist and the rest of his torso pushing into his chest. Although a presence had been detected, or the boy's father growing suspicious, there would be cause to investigate.
If the man cared enough, that is. From the nightmares he had sent years back, the boy was used to feeling ignored by his father.
Pitch extended a hand, black sand beginning to spill from his fingers. He managed to fill his palm, then maneuvered it over the boy's head. Using the hand silencing him to tilt his face upward, he tipped the sand into his eyes. Trying to shake his head to avoid the substance.
"It doesn't matter, you can't resist the pull of a nightmare."
His grip loosened enough, the boy managed to push away from him. Just as the sand performed its deed. His eyes easing shut as he collapsed to the floor.
"You're important to him."
"Son? It's the middle of the night, and you have school in the morning, get to bed,"
Pitch looked to see the doorknob being turned. Now his time had been shortened. He gathered the listless boy into his arms, not yet affected enough from the nightmare to begin twitching. He went to the darkest corner of the room, holding him tight. Then it was simply stepping to the shadows, as the bedroom door opened.
He'll come for you.