The Moment

Love was always a shade of gray,

Nothing golden would ever stay.

Starry eyed girl, you took all that away

The moment that you loved me.

There is a feeling I can't express,

The words for it just don't exist.

I feel it most when you're close like this,

It's in your touch and it's in your kiss.

The Moment by GOLDHOUSE

Jack liked to tell him, in the quiet hours of the night, about the darkness. He didn't say much, merely let the smaller spirit explain his experience with the darkness, until he finally closed his eyes and fall asleep—just like that. Pitch had always envied that particular talent, from wide awake to dead asleep in under 15 seconds. He was pretty sure that was a world record.

He never said anything, but he also envied the fleeting encounter Jack liked to confide in him. It was only a passing nightmare for him, now. It didn't linger, it hadn't hooked its long, hooked claws into Jack and hold him hostage.

It didn't hold Jack hostage, but it held Pitch.

It was a wonder Jack wanted to spend any time with him at all, really. He was the very embodiment of the darkness that Jack had been so frightened of. It was in his name, it was in his appearance, it was in his very being.

His entire world was a dark, black abyss that sucked innocence and joy out of everything he touched.

Except Jack.

He was just a tiny blip on the radar, a miniscule spot of flickering light in the overpowering darkness. It was laughable, honestly; one little winter spirit, able to hold back the hungry dark. At first, Pitch had been looking to cause harm, see how far he could push Jack before the boy broke. How long would it take? How far could he go? What would be the magic word to wipe the smile permanently off his face?

It was not to be, however. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, Jack would always return… armed with unflappable forgiveness he alone was capable of. He seemed to realize what Pitch was doing, and instead of driving him away, it instead drew him closer. The enduring winter, able to weather the storm of Pitch's very nature.

There were not many good things in his life. Truth be told, there was only one, and it really liked to throw snow balls at him. Jack's infectious nature was charming(most of the time), and Pitch was helpless under the onslaught. There is only one thing to do when Jack says "jump", and that's to ask "how high?" There wasn't much he wouldn't do to ensure that the tiny, flickering light in his darkness stayed.

"Stop that."

Pitch blinked, looking down to the blue and white bundle called Jack Frost on his chest. He shifted and bleary eyes blinked up at him sleepily. Pitch frowned, "I'm not doing anything." He replied, indignant. He thought he was being a rather good… boyfriend? He wasn't really sure what this was. But what he was sure of was… his arm was dead asleep, and he was unable to move it less he wake the boy. That was true love, of course. He knew because he'd been forced to watch "romantic comedies" with Frost on more than one occasion.

"I can feel you brooding, idiot. Stop it!" Jack replied, "Just go to sleep. That's what you're supposed to do when you're in bed with such a dashing young man, such as myself. Not sit there and look like someone just ran over your puppy."

Pitch smirked, his hands sliding down to the smaller spirit's waist-band, "I can think of other things you're supposed to do in bed with a 'dashing young man', and it doesn't include sleeping."

Neither of them got very much sleep that night, needless to say.