It might have been his imagination-which would mean that he have a fucked up mind- but it seemed that The Boogeyman was… fond of him? In a weird, 'I don't like you but you are entertaining so I will keep you company' kind of way? Shit, that made Pitch sounded like a tsundere, which was another disturbing image burned down to his mind.
Now, how did this happened again? He was breaking up another fight between Jack and Pitch, only this time, Pitch went berserk and was actually winning. There was no way to talk him down. Not when The Nightmare King was blinded by rage. More than usual. So Jamie did the only thing that he could think of. He grabbed Pitch's robe and clung to him by the waist, hoping he would be able to hold back the dark spirit without getting killed. Right at that moment Jamie finally realized why people called him impulsive.
Pitch went stiff, and Jamie shut his eyes ready for a blow that would come his way. It never did. "What are you doing?" Jamie opened his eyes, wary brown staring back at puzzled gold.
"Stopping you from killing Jack?"
"By hugging me?" Pitch's voice was a combination of confused, amused, and deadpan. How could anyone managed to do that anyway?
Jamie awkwardly let Pitch go, sure that the spirit had already calmed down. He shifted his attention to Jack. The Guardian was bruised and battered, both his body and his ego.
"That was satisfying." Pitch smirked, earning glares from both Jamie and Jack for different reasons.
"Zip it." Jamie ordered. The Boogeyman looked at him strangely, as if he was intrigued. If he had eyebrows he was probably rising one right now. "Alright Jack, let's get you patched up." He slung the winter spirit's arm over his shoulder, helping him stand.
"I'm fine." Jack grumbled.
"Of course. And Pitch has teeth as white as freshly fallen snow." Jamie responded. Both immortals snorted.
Jamie thought nothing about Pitch's strange behavior after that. He was strange to begin with.
It took him at least three days to notice that Pitch had taken resident under his bed. "Your observational skill is rather pathetic."
"And you are a creep." Jamie shuddered at the thought of Pitch spying on him.
The spirit rolled his eyes. "Oh hush. I'm not interested in you like that."
"Like... What then?" Jamie asked warily.
Pitch looked smug, as if he knew something that Jamie didn't. "Like I said, your observational skill is pathetic."
The brunet sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just... Don't be creepy." It was obvious that Pitch wouldn't go away if he told him to, so he should just make rules for his new roommate.
"Don't be creepy? I am The Nightmare King! It's in the job description."
"Alright, fine! Don't snoop around then!" He was too tired to deal with the bullshits oozing from the spirit's mouth.
"Rude." Pitch sniffed.
"Living in my room without telling me is rude."
"Touche."
He was fear and hatred and manipulation. He was light and kindness and naive sincerity. Pitch liked Jamie. Not in the way someone would pine on the love of their life. Not like that. He liked that Jamie paid attention to him, believed in him and it also made Pitch believed that he was still real. He liked Jamie because he felt real around the boy, felt that he was actually important ("We need fear to survive!" Pitch wasn't kidding when he said he was flattered. He just sounded like it).
The Nightmare King put on a mask of indifference and taunt around Jamie. Purposefully seeking out fights just to listen to the human's voice again. He always lost, and Jamie was always there to defend him.
But fear was not kind. They hated clarity, hated Frost for bringing more and more Lights. It didn't help that the brat just synced so well with that hatred, responding to them with aggressiveness and incited more bloodlust inside of him.
For a second he lost his mind again. He was back inside the hole under the broken bed, tortured by his own fearlings. He was Fear. So why was he scared?
He was hatred and it felt so, so good when he heard the sound of Frost's broken bones as he tried to escape.
Then he felt something around his waist and he stopped. He stopped to listen to the beating of a heart he didn't have. It was not his heart thumping. It was not his breatch hitching. It was Jamie's. He always hated complete darkness, so he was thankful for the little light Jamie gave to him, the one that gave him back his shadow.
(Because in complete darkness, even his own shadow left him)
Pitch protected Jamie in his own way. The boy was able enough by his own self. But he was too kind, too gullible.
But Pitch was all about manipulation.
He couldn't protect Jamie from the darkness-the brunet's word of how fear was needed kept ringing in his mind- so he would teach him about darkness.
(It helped a lot that he enjoyed their banter and Jamie's frustrated rants)
