My little voice was gentle that night; this I remember. My shivering timbre crying out in the darkness. Fear and anxiety crippling me. I also remember the bear laying on my bed. Brownish fur and a cuteness factor I had, in my naive innocent mind, subconsciously connected with my image of an almighty protector. I wanted my protector to be gentle, above all else. Unlike the other kids who dreamed of strength and power, I dreamt of smiles and laughter and peace. My next and last memory was of his face, which has stayed with me to this day. He has stayed with me through the longest years of my life and the most troubling times. His voice still provided that little comfort, even as the echoes of his voice distanced themselves into oblivion, their shadows may still give me warmth.

His complexion was simple; a pale unmarked face topped with a pile of dead white hair. Big ears and eyes that had this dull glow to them, almost like a marble in the sun.

My shock when I first heard his voice must have been evident. I could barely move when it first hit me my dreams might have actually come true. Turning around, my innocence led me to believe that the person I faced then was no simple being. I convinced myself I was in the presence of an angel. The purity of Jack's face and the rowdy childish excitement he harbored completely offset any and all assumptions I had made about the previously mythic being. God knows how a man so old and experienced could still have such a childish passion for life. I enjoyed every second we had together. This time, however, was cut short; and like all fairy tales where romance was no option, I had to let him go.

That's right. My age had changed and so had my intentions. I had gone from a lonely star-struck child to an old love-sick man in the body of an adolescent. Most of the people at my school could have barely written what I've written here already, even if it were dictated to them word-for-word. I loathe people, not because I feel as though they aren't relevant, but because they lack that pure innocence of children. I now find myself playing with children the majority of my time, which has many benefits most people can never truly understand. I actually enjoy working with the children, much more so than even the ladies apart of the day-care do. I had begun paid work at this local day-care only two months ago, but had been already working with various day-cares for more than six years. One could say I never really left the crib, I only stand on the other side of it now, looking in. I have never struggled with children. I understand the realities of their selfish desire, however I choose not to feel resentment towards these honest outward expressions. Yes, children are blunt, but they are also clean; unsoiled by the world at large.

This is why I impress upon my kids how important fantasies are. Of course, most of them believe Jack Frost is real (mission accomplished), while I continue to regal them of other, more obviously unreal tales of ancient heroes and princesses. Even as I grew better in my story-telling, I found myself being asked to retell the same old story about a little old boy and his buddy Jack Frost. The teachers absolutely adored this, seeing it as an impassioned act to keep the kids' imaginations flowing. I used their confusion as an opportunity to get children to believe once more in things others would tell them they shouldn't. I felt gleeful, asking kids to dream just a little longer. I felt like the guardian Jack told me I was.

Even so, I longed to see Jack again. Almost eleven years of constant torture. Hormones attacking me introduced that deeper muddling of innocence that often made me cry. I realized after a while that Jack would be the only person I would ever be attracted to.

Jack.

That name was endlessly beautiful to me now. The word flowing from my tongue like rich cream. Oh god, it felt good to remember. Back then, memories were about the only thing that kept me running; memories of his presence - real - unadulterated - completely satisfying. I could not be alive if not for the memories of Jack. Suicide had come to mind at some points over the years, but I never yielded to those thoughts out of a horrific fear I would not remember Jack anymore. I counted myself lucky to have had that small window of time, and yet that time was vanished in a door long since locked. That simplest of thoughts brought tears to my eyes. Lost love; this was what had become of me?

I walked down the village streets in a long-coat, wishing for more of that wondrous snow that had come the day before. Of all the vague signs left behind by the Guardians, snow was probably the most spiritual reminder of the past, and of the reality that the past was continually relevant. Instead, the ground was frozen in the winter's great chill. Time had passed, and people who be in school in less than an hour. I didn't know what I wanted to be, really. I attended university because I felt as though a degree would give me some latitude in the future. I had already determined back then that my main focus would be writing and literature. No matter how hard I tried, I could never get away from books and poetry. I found that crazy people could express such endless depth through words as I had never seen. Such profound hardship and a single man's reaction to that hardship; all shown in words.

Attending classes was, as usual, completely redundant. I felt myself day-dreaming in droning silence about Jack and the kinds of amazing things he could draw with his power over the winter cool. Sides of trees were constant reminders of Jack's amazing artistry. I could never hope to duplicate the incredible sprawls of ice and intricately laced patterns so undeniably created and conceived that it was laughable that my peers never had the faintest belief Jack was real. How could they, when they were so endlessly fascinated by technology and caught up in their own lives? Nature had claim over me, but Jack had bought my heart from it long ago when I was still very young. In the darkness of my dorm room, I could still hear his voice whispering to me; so real I sometimes jolted awake to see whether or not the man was actually there. I could only grip tightly - desperately - onto those words which could only bring me into a manic depression. Their double meaning cut deeply, even as the winter chill reminded me of some faint presence still residing there.

'He can see me!'

.../

.../

.../

His eyes are brown. That is what I kept telling myself. I couldn't for the life of me understand how I had convinced myself of this, or why.

Hazel; his eyes were hazel. His gentle eyebrows were black - no - white. Was his hair short? I remember it was short, crew-cut short. His body was slender, that I remember. A slim form was barely concealed below sagging clothes. Why did he wear clothes? Regardless of any perversion, these are all honest questions. Why would a four hundred year-old being have need for mortal clothing, especially when no people could see him? I suppose as North was always in clothing, Jack would need modesty as well.

All that time, and are the questions that ran through my mind? It's good I had some friends, or else I wouldn't have stayed sane. Looking at the bunch sitting with me at our little lunch table, I was reminded of how any situation could have a bright side. My longing for Jack was eased by those small happy times with my friends. Candice was one girl who had developed a crush on me after she noticed I loved children. I had to tell her I was in love with another before she finally 'let go', if that is what you like to call the situation we were in. She would occasionally sit too close or brush various parts of her body against me 'accidently', even though it never would have happened, had she not been sticking so incredibly close to yours truly. She was a chipper young girl; the envy of most who only wished to be of her caliber. I was also the envy of most men, who would have loved to bring her to bed during some of the more extravagant parties in our school. every time I heard she was going to a party, I felt an obligation to protect her from the greedy drunken hands of other men.

I suppose I became her protector of sorts, but the truth still stood that I could never really love her.

Another one of my friends was named Zack. He was a childhood friend. Although he was a quiet one, you would see him pulling the craziest stunts at random times for completely incomprehensible reasons; which I suppose is the definition of craziness. We were an odd bunch of misfits who spent most of our time together or in contact with one another. Other friends would come and go, but the three of us were always together.

Maybe that track record was why I didn't feel too uncomfortable when a new person would squeeze their way into our group; I always expected them to leave. Usually, however, the friend was one of the others'.

And so; as the tale would have it, I felt completely amiss the first time he said hello to me.

"Hey."

Simple words echoing in the classroom packed with other students not-so-eager to learn. The university was full of crazy people, so I paid no mind to the simple recognition of my existence.

"Hi."

"So, how long have you been taking this wondrous class?"

This boy was obviously one for small talk. I didn't have a care though, which is why I still hadn't looked at him.

"Art? Not long. I'm only taking this course for a while for the sake of ... well ... a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yeah, somebody I used to know who loves art."

"Really? Why didn't he come here - to one of the most prestigious art colleges in the country?"

"You know, I really have no idea. I guess he just wanted to be somewhere else."

"I see..."

The boy's talk was really beginning to grate on me. I didn't want to look at him for the sake of being left alone. I felt as though that was the one barrier that should not should not have been crossed. Thusly, I left his face completely alone. Even so, he continued to talk.

"You know, there are tons of art colleges with tons of art courses. Why would you choose to take one of the hardest courses to apply for, all for the sake of a friend?"

"I ... well he was an important friend. Why do I need an excuse to learn about art?"

This time, I asked the question looking at him face to face. There was nothing spectacular about the boy. The boy was generally pretty handsome with short hair and nice eyes, but nothing special. I suppose I shouldn't have been looking for something special, I should just have meant to talk. Never-the-less, the boy seemed to ignore my silent judgment and trudged on with a sly little smirk on his face.

"An important friend, really? What was he like?"

I gave him the most incredulous stare I could muster. The guy was probing a little too far, and yet this fact seemed to have escaped him. I supposed I had nothing to gain or lose by this little exchange, so I allowed myself to relax.

"Well, he was kind - very kind. Whenever we talked, he had this way of referring to his work that made me think he cherished the job he had more than anything, which I suppose is pretty reasonable. I hate my job, I can't stand it!"

"Where do you work?"

"I work at the Seven-Eleven close to the Burgoyne Theater. I used to work at Burgoyne Theater, but the boss there hated me. He wanted me gone from the moment I applied, but he couldn't find a good excuse until I accidentally broke the projector, which is something every employee there does at one point or another. He just treated that incident as an out. I guess I couldn't blame him though..."

"Why? Why would he want to fire you?"

"I guess he thought I was too immature, I dunno. Anyhow, I started work at the convenience store a few weeks later and all was solved I guess."

"Hm. The manager doesn't like you there, either?"

"Right. It seems every authority figure I've ever met will inevitably come to despise me. I've never really been a trouble maker, but I guess I'm just too curious for my own sake."

"That sounds rather like an advantage to me."

"That's how I see it... Hopefully I'll find the job the allows me enough time to work on my hobbies without making me too depressed to have fun with them."

"Hobbies? You mean writing?"

To say I was completely stunned would have been a gross understatement. The look I gave him must have emphasized that point, because he almost immediately burst out into a medley of laughter. I flushed in embarrassment after realizing what I had done. Usually people didn't react so loudly to my facial expressions.

"H-how did you know?"

"Dude, your mug screams 'deep-thinker'. I couldn't help but assume somebody like you usually keeps their thoughts bottled up until a later time. At least, I guess that was true until, like, five seconds ago. That was hilarious!"

"I didn't think it was so funny, mr. stalkerface. Jeez, how long have you been coming here, four years? It figures I haven't seen you; you've been hiding in the shadows all this time."

"Or maybe I've just been invisible and nobody knew."

"I bet you watched lots of girls getting undressed, didn't you?"

"Immediately to that, eh? Not as innocent a thinker as I supposed, are you?"

"Hey! I may not always say the most platonic things, but at least I never act it out on other people like you!"

His sly smirk once more appeared so inconveniently for my sake. I hid my face, only to hear that same laughter start up again.

"You know, you can color me confused. I've never known anybody who asked me about my virginity."

"Who said I was asking about that!?"

"Nobody but you. I guess it's a fair question, seeing as I have the tendency to come off so cocky. Maybe you won't think I'm telling the truth, but..."

At this point, he leaned in real close to get into whispering shot of my ear.

"I've never had sex."

I turned to look at him dead in the eyes.

"Never?"

"Ever."

"Wow."

"I know, right. I guess I've just never been much of a player. I've never used my skills for anything other than my work; but look where that's gotten me?"

"Into one of the most prestigious art schools in this country."

"Heh. You got in here easily enough, didn't you?"

"Oh no! I had to reserve months out of last year solely for the purpose of applying for this one course. I felt the reason for it was substantial enough to warrant the work, but now I can't be so sure."

"You mean - coming here to learn about a subject your old friend was interested in who you haven't seen in what, years?"

"Many years."

"Whoa, now that's dedication. Marry him."

"That isn't legal."

"Yet."

"Heh, right."

"So you're gay for him then?"

"WHAT? NO!"

"But you just said-"

"-BUT I DIDN'T MEAN THAT YOU OVER-ANALYZING TWIT!"

"Very interesting. Subject is becoming surprisingly defensive."

"Jerk."

"Hag."

"What? Where the heck did that come from?"

"I dunno. You called me a name out of anger, but I didn't have any so I just made something up."

"You are one of the weirdest people I know."

"I know."

Lunch was a drag. The students were blotched around like dead ants in the courtyard. My friends and I were perusing for a good spot when Candice finally looked up from her phone, which she had been peering into with her body shaking in excitement for nearly fifteen minutes. Zack and I had been trying to understand what was going on, only to have her shove a hand in our faces pleading for silence. Her looking up was a relief to us; we felt as though she had just woken up from a coma.

"OMG! THERE'S THIS NEW GUY ON CAMPUS, AND HE'S REALLY HOT!"

Zack and I shared a look, but as always I was the one to pipe up for the both of us.

"Hey, Candy. You don't have to be so loud."

"Sorry! It's just so awesome. About three girls have already asked him out, but he's refused them all. he barely talks to anybody, but he's so cool it burns!"

"'So cool it burns'? Candy; you're describing somebody, but I don't think you understand exactly who you're describing."

"Exaggeration, maybe?" Zack said from behind me.

"You two need to stop talking, you're ruining my good mood. This guy's a pimp. Apparently his parents are dead and he taught himself how to read. How epic is that!"

"Pretty epic. Who is he?"

"Nobody knows. A lot of people are saying he hasn't told anybody his name ever, and then some are saying they've heard but then it goes into all these stories that are so bullshit they don't even make sense. I mean like, who would make up stories about kissing a guy you've only known existed for a day? Some people at this school are so lame, I wish they wouldn't be so helplessly romantic."

"'Helplessly romantic'? Maybe you can sympathize. I don't see any difference between you and them."

"James, look."

Candice had me by the shoulders now. I was feigning fright as she looked my dead in the eye to share with me one of her many pieces of advice.

"One day, you're going to find somebody you absolutely adore, and you're going to be struck with the same curse as me. Girls don't masturbate, so we have to let our sexual frustration out some other way. That way, dear Jackie, is by becoming overly attached to our own romantic fantasies. Cute men who hate everybody fit that bill. What girl in this school wouldn't like to make up stories about his past?"

All I could think of was how true to life that already was for me. My romantic fantasies were abounding when it came to me and Jack. I would occasionally stay up at night and, as pathetic as it sounds, make up stories about how we would meet again. Maybe he would fly in through the window and whisk me away to a forest of some kind. Maybe he would gently wake me so that he could say to me it had all meant something to him too. I suppose all I wanted was proof that I wasn't living in complete hysteria. All I wanted was for him to come and tell me I was right, and that would be all I would ever need.

That night, I was working a shift at Seven-Eleven. The boss had come by to harp on me the importance of perfectionism and steady work ethic. I had little care for his gibberish; all I wanted was to get through the shift so I could walk home and embrace the heavenly comforts of my bed. God, how I wished I was there right now, being slowly caressed into sleep by Sandy's magical dust. Oh, how Sandy had blessed me all these years with quick sleep.

Now, however, Sandy could not have been more distant. I had to stay awake, no matter what. I was missing important homework so my boss wouldn't fire me for doing homework on the job. I was paid to sit behind a counter, so that better be all I was doing. Genius logic that.

Hours ticked by as travelers came in and out, occasionally speaking but for the most part not. Eleven-o-clock turned to Twelve which slowly but surely drifted into One. The morning was slow in coming, and yet I already knew waking up the next day for testing at Ten would be absolutely wretched. A particularly long stretch of time had passed since the last customer had entered, and slowly I felt myself nodding off against my own will. Time seemed to pass in seconds before the door chime jolted me awake. I quickly scrambled around to check if everything was OK, which it was, before turning to the clock. I had slept for less than twenty minutes, lucky me. The fella who dared interrupt had long since steered into the isles of the store, but I heard rustling sounds which meant he was looking for something. I waited for what seemed like forever before a pile of goods plopped onto the counter. The pile was rather large; the guy must have been starving. I slowly looked up to meet the end of a shiny metal tube, which only could have meant one thing.

"Gimme your money!"

shit

"Hey, man. Please don't do this. This is the only job I have and if my boss sees this I'm-"

"SHUT UP. Look, just gimme the cash so I can get out of here, NOW!"

Not questioning his guts, I stood up and emptied the cash register. I watched as my last hope of pay drifted away in the form of several green bills dropping into a black trash bag. I was so angry at myself for not being prepared. The gun was only feet away. If only I had moved the thing closer, the guy wouldn't be as much of a threat to my life. I could just raise the gun whenever he had his back turned and turned all the tables on him. Unfortunately, this was not to be. My station was empty and his bag was full. Brushing all the goods in the bag quickly, he looked around quickly before dashing out of the store before I could even reach over to grip the weapon's hilt.

I let out a deep sigh and picked up the store phone, dialing 911 slowly before putting my finger over the call button.

"aw, shit!"

I threw my head around, gazing out the window to see into the parking lot as a man, the only one there, was laying on the ground. I hung up the phone before coming around the counter to get a better look. I saw another guy standing over him, looking about my age and acting rather calm. Before anything could be said, the guy picked up the burglar's bag and began walking straight towards me. I couldn't tell exactly who it was until he became fully lit a few meters away from me. Once again, I felt myself in complete and utter shock. I couldn't believe my eyes as the fellow from the classroom earlier was coming towards me with that very same smirk transfixed on his face.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"What, were you waiting for a crook to come by so you could trip him?"

"No, actually. Blind luck."

"Psh, as if. So I guess you found me again."

"Yes, well. One never forgets a good conversation, right?"

"I guess."

We now had a couple of feet between us, The neck of the bag was being wrung out between the two of this guy's hands, which told me he was nervous about something.

"Is that my bag, or were you gonna keep it?"

"Oh! No, sorry. I was just pondering something."

After he had thrust the bag into my hands, he had to find something else to do with his hands without giving himself away. He failed miserably, looking like a completely nervous wreck.

"Well, what would a man of your complex whim ponder?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out on a date."

...

...

...

...

...

oh ok. That was all? Well gee, I guess I'll just go home and get my swea-

"Are you out of your mind?"

"What?"

"You don't just ask people things like that. Isn't there some length of time during which you get to know the person before you decide you want to be in a relationship with them?"

"Well ... yeah..."

"Jeez. I'm sorry, no. You know you aren't the first person to ask. I'm not trying to brag, I just wanted to let you know that it isn't you. I've been in love for a while now."

"Really, with who?"

"...Let's go inside, it's ridiculous out here."

"Well?"

"Alright. I knew this guy years ago, but he left and never came back. I know I'm never going to see him again, but I can't seem to get him out of here."

I illustrated by knocking on my head. The boy smirked before walking closer to help me reorganize the goods in the bag.

"I see. So you are gay?"

"...I guess. I've only ever been attracted to him though. I don't think there's ever been another person who I completely adored as much as him."

"Are you sure it's not just infatuation?"

"No. How could it not be? We only knew each other for a matter of days. I can't tell you though how many times I've cried over the years, waiting for him to come back."

The boy stayed silent for a time, making me question whether or not he was still there. I looked up to see him buried somewhere in the chip isle, looking intently at a brand label before going around to the other side and looking just as confused.

"Is that trail mix?"

He turned to me and smiled.

"Yeah."

"They don't sell that stuff in the back anymore. It's sold up here at the counter."

The boy made his way up to the counter, finding the correct bracket with an "ah!" before placing the wretched bag back where it belonged. He then turned and rested his elbows up on the counter, watching me as I went about my business replacing all the money.

"Hey, aren't you going to help that guy outside?"

"The guy I tripped?"

"Yeah."

"Nah, I'll let him suffer a little longer."

"Oh come on, he was just trying to get some money. He was ... is probably desperate!"

"I wouldn't worry too much about him. I know him; he works for a marketing firm that fired him for negligence weeks ago. From what I heard from the desk-clerk there, he's been spending his money like a cow ever since."

"That's odd. Such a coincidence."

"Yeah. I know a lot of people in this town, though. The desk clerk is actually a friend of a friend - I've only met her once."

"It must be awesome, having connections."

"Yeah, lots of free stuff!"

I chuckled before closing the register one last time. Thanks to him, it hadn't taken twenty minutes to put everything back.

"You want a slurpee on the house?"

"That would be great."

The rest of my shift involved the two of us talking with the occasional interruption of a customer. I couldn't help but feel like the two of us could be really awesome friends. His presence in a room was such that he caught everybody's attention. There was this mystical aura to it all, even though I knew he was just another guy. Albeit; an incredibly nice guy.

As he walked out the door, I felt some bout of curiosity overcome me.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Are you the guy I heard about today? Everybody was talking about this cool new guy who had been asked out already a few times during the day. All the girls were ecstatic."

"Probably, unless those girls do that with all the new guys."

I smiled. I couldn't help but intrigue myself with this guy. I turned around to the counter to check and make sure the bag was completely empty.

"Say, I never got your name. That's so rude of me, I'm sorry."

"Jack."

I looked up from the bag, my vision blurry. A word had blurted itself out before I could possibly have hoped to stop it. The only word it was possible for me to say right then.

"What?"

"Just Jack."

The words felt so close to me, I couldn't help it when my body swung around to look at the door, now empty. He had vanished.

Jack had vanished.

...

My Jack.