Chapter One - The Black Sheep
His life had always been normal: his childhood filled with easily found friends that were attracted to his bright sense of fun, his family bonded through experiences and hardships they had all shared, his relationships filled with love and loss, yet never with regret, and his time felt infinite. He had most things people would trade their souls to a devil for. He never realized this was how other people viewed his life, and not how he should. His life wasn't as basic as all this; as they all thought it was
There were some things he had never been able to tell anyone. Not his friends, nor his family, nor his loves. It always seemed to him that everyone else had someone who was closer to them than their own secrets, everyone else had a family who was close emotionally but not physically, and everyone else had someone they could have and hold and stumble with. He wasn't like everyone else, not that he had ever fully understood that. Among his friends he had never found someone to really confide in, if he ever did a minute thing wrong he was slapped, or if his father was in the right mood, a bit more was forced out of him, and true love always managed to escape him out the window early in the morning without leaving a name or number.
On occasion this young man would think that his life wasn't so great, he needed more from it, to be acknowledged for who he really was, before a wave of shame mixed with guilt would wash over and pull him into its depths. He swore on those occasions he could taste the salt-water. If only he knew those were tears and not waves, maybe he wouldn't have felt so shamed; so guilty; so tired.
His life wasn't normal, and the sooner he realized that, the sooner he could be free and, maybe someday, even happy.
Mornings always seemed to be the hardest for him. He would wake up earlier than any student who had just started their first semester at college ever needed to be, head downstairs to start breakfast, double-checking that he made the meal perfectly lest he had to start from scratch, set everything out, quietly sneak back up to his room and prepare for the coming classes, and if he was lucky, grab something for himself before his family noticed as he sprinted out the door.
By the time he manages to get to the first round of his classes, he's sweating, tired, and more than a little disheveled. No one ever seemed to mind though. His "friends" would crowd around him, always chanting the same questions, as though they were curious little sheep.
"How was your night?"
"Meet anyone new?"
"When can we see your house?"
"Why won't you ever hang out with us?"
He never changed his answers, and the curious little sheep never seemed to question that.
"Couldn't have been better," a broad smile that couldn't touch his eyes.
"Oh I might have... Why are you asking?" A flirtatious wink and a faked pout following the blush of whatever person had asked him this time once he had affirmed they were too embarrassed to respond.
"Whenever I can manage to actually motivate myself to clean," a slightly shameful glance and a dull upbringing of lips that spoke volumes of just how much he didn't mind lying to these people that could never see what was really there.
"I've been so caught up in my school-work lately I really just haven't had the time," an apologetic shrug of his shoulders that, every day the same question was asked, drooped a little lower.
Today was no different, going the exact way every other day had gone for the past two months of college, down to the flock's questioning. Did he ever want something to change. Someone to call out to him and pull him in close and tell him everything was going to be okay and that he didn't have to live the way he was living and that it wasn't normal and that he shouldn't feel the way he does and that he needed somebody to care about him-
The door to the classroom slammed shut and the students shuffled to their usual seats. He feigned tiredness to his friends and used his arm like a shepherd's crook to usher them in the opposite direction. He took a seat up in the top left, alone, in a slightly shadowed corner of the lecture hall. As typical of most classrooms at the university he attended, the seats were in rows, two to a table, four tables per row, and each row went up a step starting from ground level to make sure all of the students were able to peer at their Facebook accounts through some sort of electronic device from every angle, or perhaps even see the board, but most likely it was the first reason.
Just as he pulled his hood up over his head and the professor started clicking through slides and twinkling his eyes at the three students who were actually paying attention today, a knock sounded at the door nearest to the front of the class. Having faked the tiredness in the first place, he realized he really was tired, and didn't bother to look up as his teacher meandered over to the door and peered out at another obvious official of the school.
"Jack Frost? Yes, he's in this class. What? No, yes, I'll send him the notes from today's lesson, then."
Not having perked his ears at the sound of his name, it being used so commonly among the throng of female students and a few of the males, Jack started to doze.
"Excuse, Mr. Jackson Overland Frost?"
The voice was startlingly close to him, and he opened his eyes, almost falling out of his chair in surprise.
"Oh, uh, yes?" Jack attempted to recover, flashing the brilliant smile he so knew would make sure there wasn't a problem, and a few giggles resounded from further down the rows.
"Please. Come with me," and seeing Jack's smile falter a bit, the man added, "You are not in any trouble."
Jack stood and looked at the person in front of him. A tall man, muscled and large, heavily laden with a thick Russian accent, who wore a black fur cap and a dark, velvet red coat with trim that matched the covering on his head over a suit that spread fittingly over him. The outfit was unsurprising given the cold weather that had begun to spread over their average state, but Jack found himself a tad taken aback at the big, bushy white beard that sprouted from the man's face, completely contrasting to his equally big and bushy black eyebrows. He didn't seem to be old enough to have white hair, maybe in his fifties at the latest, but that's not what Jack had really fixated on. It was the fact that this person standing in front of him could have easily been confused with Santa Clause. A more modern, Russian Santa Clause, but still, Santa. I wonder if I'll see him working at the mall this Christmas, he thought, How could anyone not see that resemblance in themselves and not want to make a bit of side-cash off of it? Jack attempted to not snicker at the thought of waiting in line to tell him what he wanted for Christmas, which just so happened to be seeing him go to his regular job dressed the same way, as he followed the Santa imposter out the door. From the stares they were getting, he figured his classmates either noticed the same resemblance he had seen and were itching to jump out of their chairs and beg for new video games and ramen, or were a bit worried for Jack's safety as he left with the burly Russian. Jack hoped for either of these possibilities, finding them equally amusing.
Once in the hall, he was led to the main office where the secretary nodded her head, seemingly unnoticed by the man he followed, and into an office that was a bit too big for a college of only B-standing amongst other schools. A seat was gestured to him and he willingly sat, his nervousness coming in all too quickly, as the man sat behind the only desk in the room that had a plaque on the front that read Dean - Head of Campus. Jack looked around, trying to subtlely avoid eye contact, and noticed the dark mahogany of the desk, the chestnut bookshelves that covered the entire left wall of the room (he glanced at a few of the titles, Do Robots Dream of Electric Sheep?, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, were among them), the wall, or should he say glass, behind the desk was just that, glass, and it let through the crispest sunlight Jack had ever seen, it even shown the winding grounds of the campus, the buildings looking scattered and built at random from their slight height on the fourth floor, the wall to his far right had a fireplace- Wait. A fireplace? Jack almost burst out laughing then and there. He really must be Santabecame the only thought in Jack's easily distracted mind. He merely perused the rest of the room, all of the woods being either the same mahogany of the desk or the same chestnut of the shelves, even on the small lounge near the fireplace (a small snicker escaped this time) with a coffee-table in front. It seemed more of a small apartment than an office.
"What is amusing, my friend?" The man seated in front of him asked with a warm, broad smile.
"Do you live here?" Jack breathed a laugh, and then hesitated, thinking that maybe he should have used a bit more tact than that.
The man merely laughed whole-heartedly until his eyes started to water and he wiped them. "Oh Jack, you are like they said you would be."
Jack's smile returned at the man's fit of laughter, "They, sir?"
"Some professors and class-mates."
"And why would you want to know about me?" Jack questioned, a tad of accusation slipping into his voice.
"I fear in joke I had forgot reason I brought you here!" The man stood and offered his hand. Jack mirrored his motion after a second of confusion and felt the firm squeeze of the other's large and calloused hand. I wonder if those are from making toys for a living.
"My name is Nicholas. Nicholas St. North." Okay, so it wasn't Santa Clause per say, but come one, it was close enough.
"Very nice to meet you, sir," Jack said as they both sat back down in their chairs. "What is it you need me for? Not that I'm ungrateful. That statistics teacher can be a little boring at times, if you don't mind my saying so."
North laughed jovially once again, Ho ho ho, "Then I shall say you owe one to me," he added a wink, "For now, we can call it even if you do me favor, yes?"
"And what would this favor be, sir?" Please be delivering toys, please be delivering toys, please be delivering toys.
"I need you to help with the delivering of," gasp, "a certain student into this new life of his," sigh.
Oh the irony of word choice.
"A new student?" Formality long forgotten at the recent let down of not being able to travel the globe.
"He transferred soon, er, recently, I have lived here for many years and still I find this language difficult to," he hesitates, furrowing his brow, "grab." Another hesitation before he continues, his smile coming back but filled with pride this time at managing to grasp the right word. "The student has no family to say of, and he has apartment and job not too far from here. This will be his senior year, making him, you are freshman, yes?" Jack nods. "Then only few years difference. You will have lot in common. He is quite closed off, and as you seem be popular, I would ask you help him adjust to this new place, yes? It is difficult starting new in strange place, I should know," a throaty chuckle, "so if you would, help out?"
Jack paused to think, but before he could open his mouth to answer, the phone on North's desk rang, sharp and loud.
"Just second, please," North said picking it up.
Jack could hear a muffled woman's voice on the other end.
"Yes? Oh! He is here already? Well bring him in!" And with that he slammed the phone down, more out of accidental strength than an emotion.
A quick knock sounded on the door and North stood and went to open it. Not knowing where to look Jack stared out the window, guessing the time was mid-afternoon.
"Ah! You made it just in moment, my boy! Come, come, sit."
At that Jack turned to his left where a matching chair to his own sat, though really it was more of a dark, leather lounge-chair than anything else. He barely noticed when North sat back behind his desk.
"This Kozmotis Pitchiner, Jack. What was you like to be called again?" He looked questioningly at the new transfer.
"Pitch, if you wouldn't mind," he stated calmly as his gaze drifted out the window, almost as if the conversation wasn't entirely about him.
"Yes! Pitch! Pitch, this Jackson Overland Frost," North pointed to Jack, though it was painfully obvious that that was him since no one else was in the room, the secretary gone shutting the door behind her when the conversation first struck up, if you could call it striking up.
Pitch gave a short glance to his right before returning to the seemingly fascinating outside world.
Jack hadn't stopped staring at him since he had sat down. He found it difficult to look away from this, Pitch, person. He had an angular face, his cheekbones high and rounded, and his jaw sharp enough to cut a diamond with. His chin went to a rounded point, perfectly paired with his jaw. His nose went down into a bird-like point. His hair was pitch black, another perfect pair that went with his name this time, and his eyebrows were thin yet natural, turning the expression he had now into one of careless boredom. His lips were dark, a few shades darker than his skin, which seemed to be a pale grey. Jack wasn't sure if it was from the light, but then thought better of himself, remembering the yellow light illuminating the grounds a little while before. He couldn't bear to look away to check. Lastly, Jack looked at Pitch's eyes, savoring the color of his irises. They were the color of amber drenched in honey with streaks of silver feeding through them. He had light shadows under his eyes, though he didn't seem tired at all. Jack then questioned if maybe it was eyeliner, but brushed that notion aside for the moment. He hadn't even looked at his body yet. He wore a V-necked T-shirt, it just barely showing the starting indent of his pex, and completely showing off his collarbone that was just as angular as his face. He was lean, but there was definite muscle there. His arms were long, and Jack realized that his legs must be as well, as he took him in full picture. He had to be at least 6"4', if not taller. His jeans were dark blue, faded enough to look black, with holes in the knees, and they went down to the tops of his boots, the tips a round point like that of his chin. Jack's gaze wandered back up to his face, where he noticed a few pieces of jewelry he had first missed. A stud and a ring were in the cartilage of his right ear, and though Jack couldn't see it from the angle he was at now, he had only a stud on his left, and a slight silver ring clung to the left side of his lip, hugging it as if was going to fall. If there was a God, he did some fine work on this one, Jack thought, thanking that same God he hadn't been staring for more than a minute, he cleared his throat and said, "Hey, nice to meet you. Call me Jack, if you like."
A shrug in response.
"I guess I'll be helping you find your way around for a little while, and let's hope we can find the hidden workshop I just know North has if we pull out the right book," Jack enthusiastically whispered the last part, noting how his mind had decided for him that he was going to undertake this little task of the Dean's.
Another glance, this one longer than the previous one, and another shrug before he looked back out the window.
Jack wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the twinge of a smile being held down.