A/N : Hey sorry this is a little short more of a transitional chapter
Also this story has turned into an excuse to dress Jack as a girl.
Anything turns out to be cruel and twisted.
He is dressed as a she.
Dresses his family were never able to afford, laid out across his bed, beautiful and the perfect size.
Jack wanted to rip them to shreds by their seams. Wants to rip off the ribbons and lace and flowers and bows.
He doesn't because they were a gift and an excess one at that from North.
Jack holds one of the many dresses (enough to fill a wardrobe) and is torn between hating the fact that it was January. If it had been closer to Christmas then North would be too busy to make dresses. Rubbing the fabric with his thumb he thinks that on the flipside North wouldn't have time to make the potion to fix him.
(Despite Tooth and North and Bunny and Sandy'sprotest he still believed he was broken.)
The potion actually helped a lot. Anything was worth being fixed, and deep down he knows it's for his own good, to be sure that this is truly what he wants, the wish that could set him free if granted. There is actually a small part of him that's scared. As much as he hates his body hates being female and hates how wrong everything feels, he's scared.
What if it doesn't fix it?
What if I'm just broken?
He ignores the voice that whispers doubt and fear as black as twirling sucking holes in the universe.
He tells himself that they just want to put him in a dress. He tells himself they just want a good laugh or to see if he's really a girl. He tells himself that they just want to know who Jacquelyne Frost is.
So he goes along with it, anything to be able to shed his skin and be the person Jack Frost should be.
He slips a glacier blue one on. A simple creation with elbow-length puffy sleeves and a modest neckline. It hangs a little heavy past his knees and halfway to his feet. It's a slightly older styled dress and he picks it because it's reminiscent of something his mother would've liked. It also hides underweight body that he's kept from the few prying eyes that have cared to look.
Looking in the full mirror he takes a barefooted step toward the image of a lady. He has the grace of a cat or a bird, unnatural to any human, male or female, and slightly feral, the way he holds himself though, it shatters the image completely leaving the dress to cut painfully at his soul.
He wants to break the mirror, it gives him false hope of a pretty image as fragile as eggshells ruined by every step. He's not a woman even in a dress but it's all alright because soon, so soon that his lips crave it and his fingers shake and his chest heaves. Because everything he wants is right there and all he has to do is wait.
Only for week, North had said, heck, less than week for me and yetis to gather supplies for potion.
North had rested his big calloused hand on his slender bony shoulder.
Then, then you'll be man, he had removed his hand and smiled at Jack, for now though you are woman.
Jack shakes his head. You can dress a boy in dresses, didn't make him any less of a boy.
He walks to the door in steps that aren't truly feminine or girly in any way.
