With practiced ease, he swept up the concrete stairs pockmarked by old soda spills, discolored circles of chewing gum, and stale kernels of popcorn in the same pattern he had followed for several days now. There would be no one around to bother him, no shrieking children, no obnoxious teenagers, no chatty adults, not a single soul for ten rows of seats below him. He had bought every single ticket and felt it was a small price to pay for his privacy and enjoyment of the show. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't afford it, being an international best-selling author ten times over in the span of just five months tended to cushion one's wallet quite a bit. But money was not his concern, it was merely the means for an end. Straightening his black suit jacket, he reclined back in the uncomfortable plastic arena seats just as the lights dimmed, elegantly folding his long legs before him. As the circus acts began, he paid little attention to them, whipping out his phone and chuckling quietly to himself as he scrolled through what angry critics were saying about his latest piece of work. Really, it was so cute the way they got themselves all worked up and jealous at his sudden fame and wealth as his novels practically flew off the shelves and were devoured by the depraved masses. A sudden buzz caught his notice and he easily hit the button to ignore, not even his editor was going to distract him from missing what he had come here for. He could easily explain the lecture he was sure to get later, and he had his excuse ready. He had found the muse for his next story. Except it wasn't a lie, it was the pure honest truth.

Pushing his phone back inside his jacket pocket, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers as his golden eyes wandered, bored exhaustively over the lackluster performances. He wished he could sweep them from the stage and give the way for a real artist to take the floor. Shifting restlessly, he felt the piece of paper in his pocket rustle softly and he slipped his fingers inside, brushing them over the well-worn edges and he began to breathe more easily. This. This was why he was here. What was on this poster was the key to his success, the simple reason he had suddenly acquired masses of wealth and fame, his pure motivation. He carried it with him everywhere, the image on it bringing him solace, drive, and most of all, desire. It was the only god he beheld himself to, the only idol he prayed to late at night when he couldn't sleep and the moon shone too brightly and disturbed his pleasant dreams. It was the only name he moaned out rapturously when he was alone and stroked himself eagerly, panting harshly as the vision that swam behind his eyes pleasured him just as fervently. And now, all his long dreams and whispered fantasies were going to come true. Five months that had been the most strenuous of his entire life were about to pay off in the most fantastic of ways. His fingers curled slightly around the folded piece of paper and he exhaled slowly, settling again. He could be patient just a while longer.

And it's just then that he finally sees him, his tantalizing angel, his delicate treasure wrought from purest light in all his glory, and his name is on his lips and it hushes through with such breathless reverence that he doesn't know what to do with himself an hour for the past five days is just simply not enough to catch a glimpse of this fey creature who has invaded his mind his thoughts and heart with such a burning thoughtless insistence that makes him mad because how could he not know how could he not realize how crazy he had made him, how wild and driven by desire to claim to possess to touch and to crave that lovely slim body under his own. Golden eyes never left as they stared devotedly at the lithe figure in the air, memorizing how it seemed to fly and dance effortlessly in thin air, bound by nothing else than black bands of silk that hung from the ceiling and draped over his nude body leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination except for the little it covers up and he could just snarl and rip it from him with his bare hands because beauty like that isn't meant to be covered it's meant to be shown but for him only for him. He doesn't know how long he's been watching doesn't care because suddenly those startling blue eyes lock onto his and he feels the air leave his lungs like someone reached inside and twisted all his organs into agonizing shapes that spel an because this has never happened he's never acknowledged him how does he know? But then the impish face that has haunted his dreams for weeks dancing just out of reach smiles he smiles at him and he's suddenly reaching because a delicate white wrist has flicked out and dangled a perfectly formed and dyed black rose in its fingers poised to throw. It leaves his hand in a simple arch, soaring high above the other spectators that he had forgotten even were there because no one else in the world existed when his precious was before him. With a sudden desperate cry he notices other hands raising all to catch that fragile rose but it wasn't a rose it was his dreams his world his reason for living and he would be damned if anyone else caught what had been thrown to him it was his mine all mine and he wills it to come to him. With frantic urgency he stretches his fingertips watches with a twisting of his stomach and a fierce pounding of his heart as the black petals turn and sway with the blasts of cold air conditioned breeze and it cavorts along the streams twisting and turning teasingly and lands-

in his hand.

Just like that, it's over. The droning crowd shuffles in a mindless dragging wave to the doors, discarding ticket stubs, pamphlets, and food cartons carelessly to the floor as they soon would their memories of tonight. But not him. He would never forget as long as he had breath in his body the way those blue eyes had seared a path right though him until he was simply breathless and laid bare before that sweet soft innocent gaze that seemed to know all the horrors and scars the world bore but chose to see the beauty of life instead and laugh in the face of sadness and fear as easily as he had swung from his black ties not a moment before. What wouldn't he give to have those lovely lovely eyes pinned on him forever where he could just drown in their beautiful depths and how he could simply shout and rejoice because he knew his little darling his smart clever prince knew he had been there all along and had made a point of reaching out to him tonight. And here was the proof, clasped tightly in his long grey fingers.

Pitch Black rose from his seat and threaded the black rose through his button hole on his suit, patting it fondly. The time for sitting still was now over. He had been acknowledged. It was only right after waiting oh so patiently for a sign that his love had seen and recognized him that he go and deliver a special gift, an invitation if you will. Gliding silently out of the now dim and darkening arena, he allowed a serene smile to slip across his face, golden eyes taking on a slightly dreamy glow as he strode across the pavement to where his chauffeur was waiting, pants feeling uncomfortably tight from being ignored all this time. He slipped inside and barked a few directions to the stiff man in the driver's seat before sliding the tinted window dividing the cab shut and allowing himself a much needed moment of reprieve. Settling back against the plush fabric of the seat, he unzipped his pants and closed his eyes, taking himself in hand and stroking and playing gently, imagining perfect pink lips, bright blue eyes driven hazy by lust, and delectable moans that would rise out of a pale elegant throat that swallowed him whole and teased him with a devilish tongue, hands stroking while rapturously calling Pitch's name until-. Surprising himself as he came quickly all over his hand, he grabbed a few napkins from a dispenser in the middle and cleaned himself up, feeling deliriously happy at his sudden turn of fortune. How funny was it, that one night could make all the difference in the world. It was time to put his plan into action.

Whether he knew it or not, Jack Frost would be his by the end of the week.