He doesn't intend on staring but it couldn't be helped. Although he isn't exactly staring up the elder whom was speaking, cerulean is fixated to what hangs just above a head of black. Mistletoe. Now, he couldn't exactly voice the observation... let alone find the voice to do so... so Jackson is perfectly content in staring at the bit of greenery that remains fixated above their persons.
¶ ♚
Kozmotis Pitchiner was never a man to defy the laws of tradition, and obeying the rules on such a holiday as Christmas was imperative to not having a shitty break between rigorous work hours. Or at least that’s what he told himself when he stepped in close to Jackson and dropped his face from his high shoulders to lay his lips upon his admittedly gorgeous comrade. It was for the holidays and no more. A kiss in the midst of cheer and jingle bells was about as out of place as red noses and santa hats– Meaning it had to be acceptable for the sake of Christmas joy.
Acceptable wasn’t quite the word he would have used to describe Jackson though. This boy was exceptional.
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[ ❅ ] : A breath of
laughter after a pause, Jackson craned his neck to eye
the man whom had decidedly taken a place beside him.
”Says the king of lurking himself.” Albeit it was true, he
hardly knew his place in the rowdy, tight crowd. The
brisk air and and open space beckoned to him.
Jack wasn’t a fan of closed off spaces for very long.
¶ ♚
"I'll admit it-- I'm a bad influence," Pitch Black confessed dramatically before offering a smug smile. It was true that Pitch was lackluster company, but he had hoped Jack would have been a least somewhat enthusiastic about seeing the darkly dressed other again. He wasn't sure why Jack seemed so put off, but determination had Pitch promising himself he'd have Jack grinning in no time. The goofy face Pitch offered himself just went to show how dedicated he was.
What, pray tell, is the inspiration fueling my drive to write my first in a while drabble? Well, it's Chillmixologist, and I'm proud to say this little piece has been on my mind for a long time and inspired by the song "Hold Onto Me" by Mayday Parade. This is simply a oneshot of sorts and is meant only to show my appreciation for Chillmixologist's muse. Without further or due, here's a short:
The rain was light rapping on the paint-flaked windowsills, but the thunder was heavy against the pleated roof. Following an array of light connecting the dots in the night sky came a roar from the constellations signalling the cessation of power throughout this Manhattan neighbourhood. Connection to the world beyond the shaking house was cut and the lights that had been left on as a source of comfort flickered against their will until their untimely demise took away any chance for last words. The walls themselves felt silenced as if even a quiver of their wood could wake the fears that inescapable darkness provoked.
Using only touch, Pitch Black attempted to read Jackson Overland-Frost's body language. Without the help of the dim lamp at the bedside table he was lost in trying to maintain Jackson's focus on the room, and he could only hope that his presence was enough to calm the shaking blond's nerves. What plagued Jackson's mind remained known only to the terrified barkeep, and how to null his rapid heart rate was beyond the useless veteran. Oh, Pitch could imagine the fear, but he couldn't comprehend Jackson's personal struggle. Fear was always personal.
The ex marine knew the feeling of suffocation that came from reality disconnecting itself from your perspective. He knew what it was like to be under stress with every sound daring to be last thing heard. And he could understand laying beneath the covers with the sounds of racing traffic just outside the window reminding you of the present despite his mind convincing him otherwise. But he could only comprehend the pain of loneliness in terms of what the war has done to his heart.
Jackson's heart was a different battle.
Jackson's heart was alive with a power Pitch would never know as deeply; Jack's heart was compassionate. There was so much Jack could feel, so much he could comprehend, and so much light in his soul that at a time like this when the world was crashing and falling around him he couldn't escape into his own mind for there the war cried louder. Pitch had always known to escape to the inside where his war couldn't touch him, where he wouldn't let the war harm him. Jackson didn't have that escape. Jackson couldn't allow himself to fall into his mind where fear was a contagion clenching his unsteady pulse...
"Jackson... Jackson, Jackso-, listen to me. Hear me, okay? Come back to me. Jack?" Pitch's frantic consolation was disrupted by a sob quaking the younger boy's chest. After a pause Pitch urged himself with a mutter under his breath to keep trying despite the crack in his own voice, "Listen to me, Jackson. Come back to me. Look at me. You're okay. You're w- You're with me... I have you."
It was uncertain to Pitch as to why, but Jackson needed to resurface. There was something deep within his mind that he couldn't pull away from, and Pitch just wanted him to come back, just wanted him to... "Jack-"
All efforts to hold onto Jack felt in vain as Pitch pulled the other tighter against his own chest and sighed against his tousled hair. Jackson's body felt to be drifting away, his mind lost where ever his fear of the thunder storm had him strapped down, and Pitch could do no more than shake his head and keep talking. And so he kept talking whilst his body rocked backward and forward, cradling Jackson in his lap, "Just open your eyes, Jackson, look at me. You're safe with me. We're not in danger. Keep together, Jack. Keep it-"
Experience in the war was all Pitch Black had to go on, but this panic attack Jack was experiencing didn't mean he was scared of getting shot or of the building blowing up. Jack's position was one of absolute misplacement. He seemed to be somewhere else, somewhere frightening and stressful. And whenever Pitch Black had a night terror he just had to wake up... Could Jack wake up?
"I know you're scared... But I'm not leaving you. You need to not leave yourself..."
Alas, the storm will pass and where lies a terrified grimace will hopefully soon be Jackson's cheery smile instead. What Pitch would give to see that smile again.
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The things he did for North...Aster swore that the Russian just liked exploiting the fact that he had once given him a roof over his head. How long did he have to keep paying for that? Of course he didn't actually mind all that much, but he had to grumble and protest, at least for appearance sake. Besides, this favour was bigger than most. He had to put his apartment in danger in order to help Jack learn to cook.
Aster knew Jack, but only vaguely. Of course he'd been to North's place where the younger male was the bartender, he'd had a few of his drinks, but he didn't really know him. But there was, apparently, an event of some kind and all the staff members had to contribute. This Jack person could, apparently, burn water, so North had asked Aster to help him whip up something simple.
Simple right.
Now here they stood in the kitchen, ingredients lined up, waiting to start. "Right so- what is it ya wanted ta make again?"
Tooth quickly picked up the plastic bag
of discarded baby teeth from the office,
shoving it back into her purse.
He didn't see that, right?
People never understood.
Hearing the comment, Aster turned around, meeting the eyes of the bartender with a slight smirk. "Thank ya," he nodded, the bit of alcohol in his system making him feel more open than he normally did with strangers. "But, who're you ta be lookin' there mate?"
