a/n: So this is not a new chapter. It's a slightly long one-shot about a girl and her problems. The girl is not me, I swear. On my addiction for Cry.
I had the idea after I thought about my life. And I have tons of problems I can't confide to anyone, so I just talk to the wind sometimes. Weird.
So this focuses on a girl, like me who has social problems and shit but she's not me—I REPEAT SHE IS NOT ME. Even though Jack Frost is ultimately smexy and she lives in the Philippines where I do that girl is not me. Though I wish. But yeah. Translations at the bottom.
Jack Frost doesn't belong to me *sigh* but my OC does. That's why it's called original character. Because it's yours. It's original. And it's a character. That's your original one.
Quprille (a/n: see Cheesecake, I used it!) flung her bag onto the bed and sat in the dusty corner of her room. She breathed slowly. Bakit ba akong ganito? May malas ba yung buhay ko? She pondered this before eventually standing up with unshed tears in her eyes. She made her way to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.
Her messy black hair sprung up and her eyes seemed to be two different shades of brown: her left was hazel and her right was chestnut. Her face was pointed and her nose was long. She was thin for a fifteen-year-old girl.
She lived in Paranque City in a small village. Her house was a bungalow and it was currently being renovated. She could hear the sound of construction every day now, and even with her newly painted and fixed room she still felt that something was missing. She could never know why.
Quprille sighed. She turned away from the mirror and washed her face. May bukas pa, she thought. Para alamin yung mga bagay na 'yan.
She never had someone to confide in. She kept her secrets inside and never revealed them. She would whisper it to the wind, and it would be carried away to an unknown realm. She slept alone, since her sister slept with her parents.
Her friends were great friends, and she would always laugh with them. But she still felt out of place.
She dried her face and changed out of her uniform into shorts and a loose shirt. Sitting on the bed, she put her hair into a ponytail and searched through her bag for her homework. She had tons to do before she could relax.
A voice rang from outside the locked door. "Ate, tapos ka na ba? Kain ka muna o, may pandesal!" her grandmother called. She looked down in frustration. She had things to get done, didn't she? "Ma, mamaya-maya nalang. May gagawin pa akong assignment," she replied. A pattering of footsteps made her slump. She never meant to be rude, she just had things to do.
That was more important, right?
The next day she piled into her cousins' car. She rode with them going to school. Normally she was the noisy one but she was fairly quiet.
Her cousin, Rafael, nudged her harshly. "Hoy, Ate, bakit ang tahimik mo ngayon? Lagi ka nalang maingay dito sa kotse, eh. An'yari?" he asked loudly. Quprille turned and gave him a death glare, her specialty. He shrunk down and moved away. She went back to the window and stared outside.
Once she was dropped off, she slung the two straps of her bag on her shoulders and trudged to her grades' building. It was on the fourth floor, and she didn't want to waste her time.
She was scared to face her classmates today. What would they say about her? Would the rumors affect her?
They rang in her ears: "Alam mo, si Quprille, ang bobo niya kaya! Bakit ba siya nasa Top 40? Baka bobo rin ang mga guro, di'ba?"* "Madumi kaya ang bahay niya, kaya lagi siya nalang may sugat at nagkakaroon ng sakit. Di'ba lagi nalang siya absent?"*
They weren't true: She knew it. Did the others, though?
She opened the door to her classroom and suddenly everything went quiet. They all stared at her and eyes followed her to the back, where she sat everyday, talking to herself and writing in her notebooks about her thoughts. They were never nice ones.
A cold wind blew through the open windows. Her eyes flicked up to it. It's rainy season, it's normal. But it seemed colder than usual. And it was sunny outside.
She shook her head. It's just the stress.
But it happened thrice more that day.
Was it a strange phenomenon or was there an entity watching her?
Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, she thought about that week. Cold wind followed her everywhere. Her friends never really noticed, but the ones in her class did. They say that every time she enters a room it gets cold, and they can't explain why. Was it because she almost shut herself out to the world?
Bakit ba? Bakit ganun? May masama ba akong ginawa? Why? she thought. She sighed and turned to the left. That side of her bed was empty. She reached out longingly before her hand drooped.
She closed her eyes. "If there is an entity watching me," she whispered, "then I hope he or she listens to me tonight."
She whispered her story and her problems into the night, before she fell into a deep sleep.
Unbeknownst to her, there was someone else in the room. He brushed aside his white hair and tugged on his hoodie. Man, this girl is lonely, he thought. And she has some serious problems too.
He scratched his head and flushed. Of course, being the arrogant snow spirit that he is, Jack Frost would never admit that he'd been following this girl for the past week. It had all started on Monday, when he'd been passing there from Japan. He decided to go tropical and see what kind of weather they've been having.
It was hot, so he made a cold breeze flow through the country. Regardless of the rain, it was hot mostly, and everyone thought the wind was a blessing, although the weathermen never distinguished its source. He flew by to a school, where the classrooms were small and the students squished together. So he made wind flow through.
A few students looked relieved and kept their fans in their pockets, while another seemed confused. Of course, this was Quprille.
She went back to writing in her diary. Jack found this amusing and decided to follow her. Everywhere she went, he went. He found her interesting, and he never paid attention to what his actions were doing to her.
Sometimes she would speak to her friends in a language that he couldn't understand. But that's okay, right? It's not like he was stalking her. Was he?
He pushed this thought away and flew over her. She was small, thin, and fragile. Her skin, despite being in the sun, was pale and white. Her eyes were closed and her breathing normal. She was curled up in a ball, with only two pillows: one under her head, the other being hugged tightly by her. She had no blanket.
Jack grinned. He was finding this girl quite amusing to see: it was at night, she was sleeping in the middle of a cold storm, with the blinds open, letting the wind through the screen-covered glass-less window, yet she had no blanket.
He sat on the bed, legs crossed. Why was he suddenly so infatuated with this one? Yes, he might've followed a few girls, but he would leave them after a day or two. But why this one? He didn't even know her name, for God's sake.
She moved in her sleep. Jack sighed. He wanted to talk to her desperately. To let her know she could talk to him. But she didn't believe in him. No teenager ever did, except Jamie and his sister. But they knew him since they were little. Of course they would believe in him.
Her eyes shot open. She sat up. "What? Hello?" she called out. She blinked her eyes, staring into the darkness. Jack looked at her sadly. She shook her head, muttered something to herself, and went back to sleep. He bit his lip. "I guess I'll be following you for a long time," he said quietly. He lay on the bed beside her and slept. The next day, he woke up to find her gone.
Three and a half months have passed, and so far, Quprille still had those strange dreams of someone watching over her, though she could never see their faces. Well, she thought, it's my birthday tomorrow. Nothing could go wrong.
December 17 approached, and she was slowly getting excited. The rumors seemed nonexistent these days, and it was a normal life. With the exception of the notes. Every morning she'd wake up to find a note beside her, written in blue ink. It would state advice on her current problems and it had been great help.
She never knew who did it, and the handwriting didn't look like anyone's in the family, or in the house, for that matter. Quprille still had the feeling she was being followed, but she didn't mind.
Her mother entered her room, carrying a mug of hot cocoa. "O, ito, may tsokolate ka na. There's milk in there, too," she said happily. The Christmas album they always played by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass reached her ears. She smiled—the first, eager one in a while—and took the mug. Its heat warmed her cold fingers and it spread to her body. She chuckled. Many miracles were happening today.
"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire," the music blared. She hummed. "Jack Frost nipping at your nose," she sang.
She continued reading her book and occasionally took a sip from her mug.
Meanwhile, Jack waited outside her window, to see if she would see him. He was so obsessed with the idea of this girl seeing him; he'd come to like her a lot. He'd been writing her those notes everyday since she'd whisper her problems the night before.
Suddenly her eyes jerked upwards. His heart thumped loudly. Could she be noticing? Then he scolded himself. Don't get your hopes up, Frost, he thought.
She looked around, then she focused on the window. She gasped and stood, leaving her book unattended on the bed. She ran to the window and breathed heavily. "Are—are you the one writing all those notes?" she said excitedly. He flew back a bit, surprised at her sudden realization, and nodded. "I guess I am," he said shyly. She smiled widely, her eyes sparkling. "Come in, don't be shy," she said cheerfully.
Quprille—that was her name, wasn't it?
What a pretty name, he said to her. You have nice eyes, she said.
They complimented each other that day, and from then on Quprille had someone to confide it. Whenever she had problems at school, she come running to Jack. They were best friends. But he was so secretive. Said he had important missions and that is was confidential. She accepted it and went back to confiding in him.
But one day he disappeared. Gone, zip, zilch, nada. She kept waiting for him, but he never came back. For the rest of her life, she was still relatively happy, but a chunk of her heart was missing, because she had given it to Jack. She loved him, but did he love her back? She hoped and hoped. Until two years later she'd almost given up on him, a note appeared. But it only had one word on it:
Goodbye.
Quprille Santos sat on the snow-covered bench. Gazing at the buildings around her, she smiled and remembered when she first came to New York: that was six months ago, wasn't it?
She lived in the Big Apple now, since she was going to university there. She stayed with her aunt in her big apartment, and every weekend they'd bake different pastries to sell and they'd keep a quarter of the money and the rest they'd give the to charity. It was a peaceful life.
She unwrapped her sandwich and stirred the cream and sugar in her coffee. She crossed her legs and started eating her lunch. Students strolled past her on the park, since it was near the university and it was a nice day to be spent outside. Being a 22-year-old wasn't easy, that's for sure. Beep, beep. Her phone's shrill ringtone came from her messenger bag, and she set down her coffee and half-eaten sandwich on a towel she'd laid on the bench.
"Hello?" she said. She smiled. "Oh, hi, Anthony, how are you. . ." Her baby cousin never failed to disappoint. He called her thrice a week, and she loved him.
A snowball hit her coffee, and it fell and spilled on the ground. She narrowed her eyes and looked around. No one was throwing snowballs. She blinked, chuckled awkwardly and said bye to Anthony. Quprille kept her belongings and started swiftly walking away. No. You will not start with me, she thought angrily. Out of all the times he could've shown up, he chose now?
"Hey, Q," a smug voice said. She groaned. "What, Jack? I told you I wanted nothing to do with you," she spat at the white-haired spirit. He laughed—a funny sound. "Is it wrong to be hanging around my favorite mortal?" he said playfully, twisting his staff. She rolled her eyes and continued walking towards the university. "Stay away from me Frost."
He followed her, concern in his eyes. "I told you I was sorry, Q," he said. She turned around and pushed him away. Jack landed on the snow with a thud. "I know, Jack. But a simple sorry isn't enough for those two years I spent without you! I waited, Jack. Every night and day I hoped that you would come back. But then, oh, one day a note appears to me saying goodbye. Goodbye, Jack. Just a goodbye! How do you think I felt! I stopped hoping, that day. I still aced my exams. I got a letter from my university. I accepted it. All just to be away from that horrible memory that happened back home!" she shouted, tears filling her eyes. Luckily no one was around to hear her outburst. She leaned against a tree trunk and sank to the ground. "All I wanted was for you to be beside me all my days. I love you Jack. You took a piece of my heart and when you left it was like you threw it to the sharks."
Jack pursed his lips. "Q, I didn't—" "Save it," she interrupted him, tears flowing, "for when you have something meaningful to say."
She left without another word.
Jack watched her.
He saw her exiting the shop, alone. He followed her. It was late at night in a dangerous part of New York. Quprille, having lived there for only two months didn't really know this yet.
He flew above her, watching out for any people that might want to stand her up. Q, be safe, her thought worriedly. This was a first time thing. Ever since she yelled at him, he followed her, like when he first saw her. She looked into the empty alley before taking it. Smoke billowed through the bars in the ground. She searched through her bag, not noticing Jack. It was late December, it was always cold.
A harsh scream filled the night. Jack rushed down to see if she was in danger, and sure enough, she was. Two large men were in front of her, and another one was behind her. "L—let me go," she pleaded helplessly. They laughed. Jack furrowed his brows. The idiots.
"Nuh uh, little girlie," one of the men said menacingly, "you have to please our desires first." Jack took this chance. A gust of strong wind hit the first man in the chest, knocking him against the wall. He was out cold. The other two looked around in fear. "Who's there?" the second one said. "Show yourself, you coward!" Snow fell from the rooftops and covered him, while the third yelped and ran away. The second one groaned in pain.
"Q, are you okay?" Jack said, dashing to her. He landed on the ground and held her. She was shivering. "Jack, I'm so sorry," she whimpered. She buried herself in his chest and hugged him. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. With all the commotion about Pitch coming back, I was scared he would target you. Then you'd be gone and I'd be alone and. . ." he trailed off. Quprille cried harder. "You should've told me!" she gasped. Jack nodded. "I'm a real ass, huh?" he said, a hint of humor in his voice. She giggled. "You are a real ass, Jack," she said. Jack carried her bridal style and flew her back to her apartment.
"Thanks," she said lamely. He grinned. "You're welcome. But that save wasn't free," he said mischievously. Quprille looked confused. "What? What do I have to do?" she asked curiously. He smirked. "Kiss me." He flew inside her room and sat on her desk. She shook her head at him. "You are such an idiot, Jack." "But that's why you love me, right?" he said. She rolled her eyes. "Sure, why not," she said. She put her lips to his, and Jack thought there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.
a/n: So? Do you like it?
Yes, that is Filipino/Tagalog. Whichever. Translations here:
1.) Why am I like this? Is my life cursed?
2.) There's still tomorrow to know those things.
3.) Hey, are you done? Eat first, there's bread here!
4.) Later, I still have assignments to do.
5.) Hey, why are you so quiet? Usually you're the one that's noisy.
6.) Did you know the Quprille is so stupid! Why is she in the top 40? Maybe the teachers are stupid too, right?
7.) Her house is so dirty, that's why she gets lots of wounds and always gets sick. Isn't she always absent?
8.) Why? Why is it like that? Did I do something bad?
9.) Here's your chocolate.
So yeah. 6 and 7 are dem rumors. Don't get confused.
R & R, please!
-Jenn xx