Make A Wish Tonight, Baby
Title: Make A Wish Tonight, Baby
Summary : Make a wish tonight, baby— it just might come true. Slash. JackFrostxOC
Pairings : JackFrostxOC
A/N: I have never seen the movie and I have never read the books. All the canon information here has been garnered from my reading Fanfiction. I was supposed to watch the movie with my flatmates, only we booked the wrong tickets and instead spent a very happy afternoon staring at the giant RotG posters on display. And then stealing them. I live in a condominium with a few of my galpals and there is now a row of posters depicting all the Guardians plus Pitch hanging on our living room wall. I've taken to sleeping on the couch. That way, the first things I see when I wake up are my babies. Oh, bliss.
(By the way, it doesn't really count as stealing, because we joint-decided that stealing was wrong and left $137.56 dollars in exchange for the posters. O.o)
I apologize in advance for the below-standard grammar/vocab/pretty-much-everything. I have been in a state of perpetual creativity-block for almost half a year. Also, this is my first time writing slash. Yeah. I'M SO SORRY! I apologize in advance again for the tense changes. I don't usually write in this style and it's been almost a year since I have written anything and it's taking some time to get used to it.
Oh, and one more thing. Flames are welcome! Enjoy!
.ooOoo.
When it all began, I was stunned at how cliché it was. And then I laughed.
The Man in the Moon asked me why I was laughing. Through tears of mirth I told him, still chortling. I had probably been done to death. Really? I was a granter of wishes— a star! Unlike other spirits, I didn't need people believing in me to be seen.
I could live as a mortal.
When I finished telling him, he laughed and then said this—
"Then I chose well. Who else would be able to perform such overused duties with style?"
That made me giggle some more. I asked him—
"So, what's my name, sir? Do I keep my old one or—?"
And M.i.M answered—
"Sol. Your name is Sol. You may add another, if you wish. A keepsake from your former life, perhaps?"
I thought that was a pretty good idea. I had another giggle at the Sol part. A music note? How quaint.
I thought some more. My name was Evan. Evan Everson. My parents were pretty odd, in a cool sort of way. Evan Everson. Maybe another cliché wouldn't hurt. I opened my mouth and said—
"Everan. Sol Everan and then insert a last name. That alright?"
M.i.M chuckled.
"Yes."
.ooOoo.
When M.i.M left, I walked around for a while in my birthplace.
It wasn't much, but I thought it was lovely. Surprisingly, I didn't wake up in open air. I opened my eyes lying down on old, slightly dusty wooden floorboards, staring up at the moon and stars through a giant hole in the roof of a dilapidated old cabin. I was pretty sure it had been abandoned for at least a decade but oddly, it wasn't that dusty. I wondered why.
A strong breeze suddenly blew in through the broken openings— some shattered windows, the doorway with the door hanging brokenly at an angle from torn hinges. It rushed through the whole place, blowing off my hoodie and biting at my skin with its chill.
Ah. That's why.
I raise a fair hand in an attempt to touch the wind— a small mockery on my part. Tendrils of cold nothing dance by and rush past my hand in a sort of caress. I say a thank you to the kind wind, who had kept Father Time from settling in my home. I giggle again as a smaller wisp brushes past my cheek in an approximation of a kiss. It carried the scent of the sea— briny and piscine. Walking over to the threshold— creaky hinges and all— I peer out.
The sight that greets my eyes is nothing short of amazing.
My home on the cliff lies dangerously close to the edge. It is scarce twenty or so paces from the end of the rocky outcrop, where lay nothing but a steep drop into the welcoming blue abyss of the sea. A few more steps and my feet met warm rock.
Warm rock?
Oh. I wasn't wearing shoes.
I continue walking, walking until the tips of my toes meet empty space and I can see the waves below crash into the rocks with sea spray and roars. The water looks so inviting. Navy and black in the moonlight make the whitecaps on the huge waves stand out like anything. They've got a name for those. What was it?
White…horses?
Yeah. That's it.
I lean forward, rocking on my heels and suddenly the ground beneath my feet has disappeared. The sharp crack reaches my ears too late and I see those enticing waters get so much closer—
And then it stops.
I'm floating in mid-air.
Or am I?
With a jolt at the realization, I am. Floating, I mean. A sharp, ferocious wind blows against me again, whipping at my clothes, my hair and everything else in reach. Tears come into my eyes as the drops of saltwater the gale carries reaches them.
"Mmph!"
I am buffeted upwards and deposited less than gracefully on a safer patch of rock before the gale begins again. I can understand why she's doing this.
"I'm sorry, I was careless," I manage to spit the words out in the brief intervals I had without my hoodie covering my mouth. With the apology out, the wind lessens into nocturnal sea breeze but not without buffeting me again one last time. I chuckle humourlessly.
"I won't be trying that again for some time."
Sitting up, I hug my knees close to my chest and stare at the endless expanse of water, the stars dotting the dark velvet sky and the pale moon. I pull on the sleeves of the thick, oversized red hoodie I had on, pulling them over my hands. Tight fatigues cover my legs; snug enough to outline the shape of my calves up to my thighs but loose enough for me to be able to pull them up to my knees without constricting blood flow. I don't know how long I sat there but for the first time since my short existence-again, I wished I had shoes.
I look down at my toes, pale and slightly blue from the cold and wiggle them to get my blood flowing again. While I was doing that, however, something slightly disturbing caught my eye. I raise a brow.
"Should I be worried?" I look up at the bright moon.
"I don't suppose you could explain this, could you?" I ask, raising my foot and wiggling the digits on them. I take another look at them and snort amusedly. "As odd as I was before, I think this would warrant some explanation, you know."
There, winking back at me, were my shiny, sparkling toenails. And fingernails. I wouldn't be surprised if my hair glittered too.
Really.
The moon remained silent, but I suppose I expected that. I still would have appreciated an explanation for my glittering toenails, though. They weren't the result of some (quite top-notch, actually) nail polish, that much I was certain. And anyway, I was male. Past oddball or not, nail polish was a bit much— absolute fabulousness notwithstanding. I wasn't going to complain.
All ab-fab nail deco aside, I would have stayed there all night had it not gotten so cold. It's funny— I remember sleeping out here all the time but I was sure I was warmer. I remembered more than most of my kind did, but almost all of them were feeling. Some had pictures, some had sounds but most were emotion, smell and touch. I was definitely warmer and I leaned on something when I drifted off to sleep.
Perhaps there were still a few sheets or a duvet or something I could use. There was an armoire in the cabin, I think.
Pushing myself up, I trot sleepily towards the shack, palms brushing against splintered wooden doorframes as I head towards the wardrobe. Pulling its doors open, I peer inside.
Apparently, I slept outside quite often.
A dozen or so cotton sheets, folded to perfection— slightly dusty and lovingly worn but still usable, a thick, thick duvet and a couple of wool rugs I could spread out in lieu of a mattress. As nice as the notion of camping out under the stars sounds, I decide to sleep on the porch. I at least had a roof above my head in case it rained or something decided to fall out of the sky without my knowledge.
Dragging out the weighty fabric, it was not long until I noticed the mirror.
I know what I was supposed to look like.
The mirror, however, did not.
I was never tanned and was glad to discover that I am still moonlight fair. It was the one thing I received from a part-Asian heritage. Sadly, everything else was changed. I was a redhead before— the thick red waves gave me an air of wildness when I was still alive which went quite well with my brown eyes. I looked unpredictable. I won't lie— I was good-looking before, but now—
Now.
Now I was pretty.
My hair was still wavy, its tips lightly tickling my collarbone but instead of the fiery red I was used to, it was a pale shade of cornsilk blonde, vibrant despite the paleness of the hue. The brown of my eyes were replaced by a colour that stirred memories of when I was still young, when I accompanied my elder brother to the pub while I was still in the world of the living. It reminded me largely of the liquors he drank, the light yellow green of Chartreuse, the aroma of absinthe.
Peridot.
I raise a hand to my face before slamming the mirror-door shut.
With a sinking heart, I finish my bed and snuggle into the soft sheets and cover myself with the eiderdown. Mourning the loss of myself, I cry myself to sleep, soaking the makeshift pillow and the strands of newly blonde hair under my head with hot, salty tears.
Right before I descend into sleepy oblivion, I realise that my hair actually did sparkle.
.ooOoo.
Life went on for a hundred and fifty years, granting wishes that children wished upon my stars— falling and first alike.
Eventually, somewhere in the 2000s, I was 'adopted' and moved with my new family to a small, cozy town called Burgess.
This is where the story begins.
.ooOoo.
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Yes. I do.
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I love you.
-Contessa