Thunderstorms and my friend ill... everything is working against my fanfiction! This time I translated ten pages in a day for nothing, because I had to wait XD
WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 4
After carefully gliding above the treetops Jack landed in the middle of a clearing, sinking his feet in the thin blanket which had started to cover the ground, then he looked around to familiarize with his surroundings; the forest, in fact, was quite different from how he remembered it: the wild animals which inhabited it were gone, replaced by cars of every shape and size, the soft moss and the delicate ferns which formed the undergrowth had been crushed and turned over into clods by the tires, and the murmuring rustle of the leaves was completely muffled by thumping music's notes.
Thrilled by the atmosphere entirely new for him Frost hurried towards a small group of boys, whom he had glimpsed through the bushes, and he cautiously stayed beside them, fearing they could catch sight of him; noticing that it consisted of only three members he decided to risk, saying a brief greeting to attract their attention, but they gave no sign of having heard him and went their way; well determined to get to the bottom of it, in order to be sure they couldn't see him, he run to precede them, then he stood in front of them as to stop them, and, when he felt them pass through his body, he had the final confirmation he was invisible.
Rejoicing, perhaps for the first time in his life, at this discovery, the boy approached the small company without any fear, curiously observing the strange leather clothes which they had put on, the numerous narrow straps around the legs, hips, torso and even neck, the shoes very thick-soled they were wearing, the jewellery bristling with spikes which adorned their arms and ears: even the smallest portion of those outfits so absurd amazed him, and, albeit failing to find any logical explanation to put on clothes obviously so uncomfortable and impractical, he had to admit to himself that they were aesthetically pleasing, albeit slightly gloomy, and that he would have liked to try them on.
The detail that most fascinated him in those characters almost aliens, however, was definitely their head: the face, in fact, was covered with make up, with light tones on the skin to make it nearly cadaverous and tones decidedly darker on eyes and mouth, deftly shaded to bring out the irises and the pinched features; the hair, instead, was dyed a thousand bright colours, combined together to create rainbow strands, short on the nape and long on the top, combed to form crests and spikes that seemed to stand upright for magic in defiance of gravity.
Too curious to be able to hold himself back Jack flew, to better watch those hairstyles so showy, and he dared to evoke a slight breeze to ruffle them, but he couldn't get this satisfaction: they didn't bent an inch; perplexed he sent a second gust to touch them, but they remained perfectly still again; now become impatient he summoned winds more rapid and intense, determined to see if the hair would have resisted even to similar currents, but, as soon as he heard the boys screaming and saw them trying to protect each other, he lessened his powers: there was no need to torment innocent people just to satisfy his own silly desire.
Regretting the fact he had inadvertently been rude he made sure to protect them from the snow, opening a gap in the middle of the snowflakes which were falling more and more thicker, and, considerate as a guardian angel, he escorted them up to the abandoned building's eaves, under where other comrades were waiting for them. He winced, scared, when he saw one of them punching another one on the shoulder, seriously afraid he was about to see a fight, but the enthusiastic tone of their voices reassured him: evidently that was just their way to say hello.
Chuckling at the idea that in the world, as well as languages for him quite incomprehensible, there were also a lot of peculiar habits and customs, the boy who let the group go away and he lingered under the makeshift canopy to look closely at two posters he had spotted, hoping to be able to get some more information to understand what was going on in that place. The first one had no use for him: completely black, it had a series of white squares in the central area, some wider, some narrower, some with rounded corners, lined up to form some kind of code which was completely meaningless to him; the second one, instead, was far more explanatory: on it it dominated a human face, white as a corpse, his eyes blacks as pitch and his mouth covered with blood running down to his chin. Although the scene had a clear grisly connotation, the photographed character didn't seem to feel any emotion at all: his face was perfectly relaxed, his features weren't distorted with rage, his mouth was closed, but not firmly shut, and his glance calm to the point it looked vacant; this his tranquillity, however, appeared far more disturbing than any angry expression: the way he was staring at the viewer, with the index slightly lowering his left lower eyelid and exposing the raw flesh, didn't bode well and sent cold chills along the spine.
Moving his pupils away from the subject Frost concentrated upon other manifesto's particulars, briefly analysing the red and white background red and white and then focusing on the writing on the upper zone; recognizing one letter at time he managed to form the word "Combichrist", but he didn't read it aloud: he was not sure how he should have pronounced it, and he had no idea of what it meant.
Slightly disturbed by that vision he stepped back, hesitant about what to do, but when his eyes fell on the entrance all doubt vanished: he couldn't absolutely forfeit the opportunity to discover something new, and, moreover, if that place had really turned out to be dangerous, he had nothing to fear about, because he was invisible to all the presents.
Encouraged by this assurance he walked, lining up behind a group of young people even more eye-catching than the first, and he followed them to a sliding iron gate, which was opened up just enough to let the guests enter in single file; quivering with impatience he waited his turn, evoking a chilly breeze to make them go faster, then he crept behind them; unable to linger any longer he overtook them as they proceeded down a winding corridor, regardless of their arms, which, occasionally, passed through him, and finally he came out into an open space.
Before he could identify it or realize what was happening he heard a crash and found himself lying against the wall, in a precarious balance between a metal drum and a wooden beam, so disoriented he struggled to understand where up and down were: he didn't expect to receive a similar blow. The music, in fact, was so high it had directly hit him, like a shock wave, injuring his ears and making him startle to the point it induced him to lurch on a side; the little sense of direction that was left, then, was finally destroyed by the pulsating lights illuminating the area, which, in few and very short flashes, blinded him.
Too confused to be able to react promptly he availed himself of the keg as a support and he slowly straightened his back, leaning against the wall to prevent himself from falling; sensing that it would have taken a while to him to recover he decided to close his irises, at least to eliminate the hassle of those light rays, but with great dismay he realized that these were visible even through his shut eyelids; determined not to be disheartened by this he settled down better on his shaky legs, covering his eyes with his left hand, then he let out a sigh of relief, happy to be able to defend himself from those annoying glares.
While waiting for the spots on the retinas to fade away Jack tried to soothe the eardrum pain, focusing on the music to understand its rhythm and then intuit its cadence, but, unfortunately for him, he didn't succeed: the strident noises and the croaking voice which animated it, in fact, didn't seem to follow any scheme and took him by surprise whenever they arose.
Frustrated by the failure the boy forced himself further, and finally he managed to grasp a recurrent sound: the basses. Initially, too stunned by the noise, he hadn't even be able to notice them, but now he could hear them clearly: he perceived them resound in the ground, wincing under the feet, climbing along the legs, vibrating in the stomach, reverberating up to the skull and back again; he sensed them oscillating among the walls, rebounding between ceiling and floor, he even felt them shaking every fibre of his staff: those sound waves, in fact, seemed to permeate everything, and they also had the advantage of exerting a calming power over him.
Reassured by the discovery Frost let himself go, sinking into those vibrations until he could no longer distinguish them from the beating of his own heart or from the buzz of his own thoughts, then he dropped his left hand along his side and opened his eyes. The very first flashes dazzled him, forcing his pupils to contract until they become pinholes, but gradually he managed to get used to them, spotting at first the drum and the beam between which he had got stuck, then the ceiling and, finally, the humans present there.
Breaking away from the wall he embraced with his eyes the huge room where he was, moving the irises from a pillar to the other, chasing the coloured rays which branched out from some strange boxes, and he chuckled, amused: the pulsating lights revealed the environment only when they were on, then making it fall into the darkness when they turned off, and it seemed to Jack he was looking a quick sequence of black and white photos, where people moved jerkily from a position to another.
After shaking his head to pull himself together he focused his attention on two boys, who, a little far from him, waved on the spot, so concentrated as to seem immersed in a world of their own: following the music rhythm they moved their arms and bodies, in soft gestures and sinuous movements, animated by an inner fire which burned so intensely it made them sweat, and Frost knew instinctively that they were dancing. He couldn't fully explain to himself how he had had this intuition: since he was born in the eighteenth century he was accustomed to very different dances, much more organized and elaborated than that haphazard waving he was watching, yet he had had no hesitation in making that thought, nor a change of mind after.
Throwing a last glance at the two guys Jack firmly grasped his staff and began to walk, determined to explore the place from top to bottom: advancing along the wall he overtook several small groups, some intent to dance, others to drink, others so crowded they didn't let him catch a glimpse of what they were doing, and, in the end, he saw an isolated figure.
Intrigued he reached him, proceeding with caution, in order to prevent himself from tripping in the myriad of threads which covered the floor or striking the fragile instrumentation which thronged the corner, and he went behind him: as he expected the man gave no sign to have noticed him and he continued unabashed to move at the rhythm of the song notes, playing at the same time with a series of buttons and levers which stuck out from the table in front of him and occasionally checking a bright screen on his right.
Puzzled Frost leaned over the coloured glass, trying to decipher the list written on it, and, after some efforts, he managed to read the first words: "Blut royale". Blut... what? What meaning could that terms unknown to him ever have? Maybe was it written in a foreign language? Or maybe did he simply fail to recognize the sequence of letters?
Turning to the following writings the boy soon realized that every effort was vain: nothing was familiar to him in that script so regular, formed by words he had never heard and words he had had, but which made no sense, therefore, considered how much concentration costed him to keep his eyes peeled in that dark place and try to follow that tiny typeface, it was preferable desisting. Too stubborn to definitely give up he still lingered in that isolated emplacement, studying the unaware lone dancer's moves, staring fascinated at the pulsating lights on the thick board on which he worked, and after few minutes he solved the mystery: the list he had seen was nothing but the series of the available songs, and the man he was watching had the task to control it and choose the order in which it was played.
Satisfied by this intuition he mentally thanked Jamie, who, telling how he had learned to use the computer to create music discs, had allowed him to get to the bottom of the arcane, then he walked away, to reveal new secrets about that event he hadn't been able to classify yet.
As soon as he came out of the area invaded by cables the music suddenly increased in volume, assuming an even faster pounding rhythm, and he realized that the noise was emitted by the big black boxes arranged radially around the secluded corner; stunned by the sound waves he decided to move away from them, but after a few steps he stopped, astonished.
In front of him there were three individuals, two females and one male, clinging to each other so closely they almost looked like a unique creature: the man, in particular, was positioned behind the most petite girl, intent on urgently grinding against her butt with little courteousness and fondling her breasts; the woman, on the other hand, was placed in front of her, taken up to kiss her with such fervour not to leave her even the room to participate actively, and it took very little to her to move the hands from her hips to her groin, sliding them without any notice under the short, fluffy skirt and stealing from her lover a surprised and startled expression, half amazed and half satisfied.
Although he had grown in an era when homosexuality was not even mentioned, so great were the fear and the loathing which such unions caused, Jack had developed, over time, his own opinion in that regard, concluding that everyone should accompany themselves with whoever they desired without any problem whatsoever; about that little chaste embrace, therefore, he wasn't shocked by the fact that two girls were displaying their affection: what upset him was the fact that the participants were three, and that they were blatantly touching themselves in front of a large audience. Why were they three? Maybe did each of them love the other two? However, how was it possible to love two people at once? Perhaps the man and the woman loved the girl, but they didn't love each other? If so, how could he handle the situation, and why did he allowed them both to fondle her? But, above all, why did none of them show the slightest embarrassment to give and receive such intimate caresses in front of other people, regardless they were making a spectacle of themselves, almost smug at the idea they were reaching the satisfaction without having to waste time in looking for a more private place?
Despite the efforts Jack didn't manage to give a valid answer to any of the questions which had spontaneously arisen in his mind, and, actually, he wouldn't have been able to reach a solution even if he had thought about it for hours: as the affectionate and sincere person he was he was unable to conceive sex as a thing on its own, separate from that absolute feeling which had been bounding him to Pitch for months and months, and he would have never imagined that two or more people could meet and share experience so intimate without feeling anything for each other.
Finally able to look away from the strange trio the boy walked around, hopping among the bottles in order not to hit them, then he spotted in the distance a secluded chamber: the light which lit it up was weak, but permanent, and, albeit small, it was not crowded at all, so it seemed the perfect place to take a short break before throwing himself back into exploration.
Glad to have found a room where he could rest a little and clear his mind Frost headed towards it without hesitation, passing through the door just before it was sealed, then he crouched in a corner to see its contents. The room was old and neglected: its peeling walls had almost completely lost the plaster which covered them and the moisture stains oozing from them were so deep and wide they had cracked them, allowing mosses and lichens to take root in the concrete; the ceiling, however, was in far worse conditions: so soaked in water to drip, it seemed to stand for magic between the support beams and, in several places, it had collapsed, cluttering the floor with rotten boards and revealing the building's upper floor.
Disorderly arranged among the rubble there were crates and drums, some so consumed they crumbled under his gaze, others well preserved enough they could hold up without problems those who were using them as seats, and without wasting time Jack focused on them. As he had already noticed from the main room there were only five persons, three men and two women, dressed with clothes similar to those he had seen worn by the other guys, but with a make up so much more disturbing: the creams and the powders they had used had not been spread with care until they formed a compact layer, but they had been approximately smeared, forming clumps in some areas and leaving others bare, dripping down their cheeks and then drying up until they cracked, drawing them sloppy orbits and distorted mouths which made them look not even human.
Upset by that vision Frost left them to their intense conversation and focused his attention on a box they continuously indicated: curious he approached it, amazed to find it covered with a metal plate so clean and polished it shone, then he noticed a series of bags placed on it.
Advancing on the spongy planking he joined them to study them better, soon discovering that they were all filled with a fine, white powder, and he smiled, excited: he would have never expected to find icing sugar in a place like this! He had not seen food around, least of all cakes or generic desserts to decorate, but he didn't care: he had an uncontrollable craving for sweets, and certainly he would have not missed such an opportunity only to reflect on what was happening.
Rejoicing to see that a small amount of sweetener had been accidentally dropped on the plate Jack sank his phalange in it, determined to steal few grains at a time so as not to arouse suspicions or frighten those present, then he brought it to his mouth: with a happy expression he mentally foretasted that degustation so desired, but, as soon as he licked the fingertip, the smile disappeared from his lips.
He immediately moved away the fingers, coughing and trying to spit the dust: in his life he had never eaten a food so bitter. Although he had taken a minimum amount that sour taste had immediately invaded his palate, penetrating the flesh like a poison and shocking his papillas, and Frost had to struggle hard to regain control of himself: he found terribly difficult not continuing to grimace and wipe his tongue with the palm of his hand to remove that bad flavour.
After few minutes of vigorous rubbing he finally managed to neutralise that disgusting taste and, resigning himself to endure the sandy feeling it had left on his palate, he came back to observe the group of people, who had meanwhile settled down in a circle around the box; puzzled and worried he watched them split the pile of powder in smaller portions and spread them into strips, trying to figure out a way to alert them the sweetener had clearly got rotten, but, before he could do anything, he saw one of the women bend over and inhale it with a nostril.
Opening wide his eyes he pressed his left on his mouth, in order to prevent himself from screaming, and he helplessly saw the four other presents doing the same: what the hell had they done? Since when did people breathe the sugar? And why those five guys seemed so proud of that gesture just performed, to the point they were complimenting each other with jabs and uproarious laugh?
Too shocked to do something he stared at them while they briefly cleaned their nose with the back of their hands and pulled out the jackets lighters and some strange, irregular little cigars, and he didn't move even when the man closest to him, the only one who had used a match, threw it still on fire almost on his feet: the amazement and the dismay he felt were so great that, probably, he would have not been able to notice it even if it had burned him.
He stood there for few minutes, rubbing his forehead to try to pull himself together and give a reason to what was happening, but when the thick smoke which emanated from those fag ends reached his nostrils he woke up: he had discovered almost nothing in that place, except for strange people and even stranger customs, but he had explored and spied more than enough to understand that it was time to leave.
Forgetful of any caution he jumped in the middle of that giggly group, grabbing without any hesitation the room key, then went to the entrance, slipped it into the lock and unblocked it, out of breath from the desire to escape as soon as possible; feeling a nausea attack he turned the knob, but the door moved only a few millimetres, letting in a gust of air which, instead of giving him relief, choked him, shoving the thick, acrid smoke into his lungs and causing him a violent fit of cough; with the strength born of desperation he kicked the door, then he give it a push with his shoulder, finally managing to open it out of an inch. Panting he threw himself into the narrow passage, getting stuck almost immediately and risking to tear apart his hoodie with the wood's splinters, but it was enough to unleash his powers to freeze the fibres and compact them and, at the same time, make them sufficiently smooth to be able to slip on them and break free.
Stumbling on his feet he fell into the central room, suffering a new trauma because of the loud music and the intermittent lights, but he tried to resist: he had already made a great spectacle of himself, with the punches against the door and the frost he had evoked all of a sudden, so he absolutely had to make sure that he had not hurt anybody, nor catch their attention. Fortunately no one seemed to have seen him, but Jack preferred to recall the ice anyway: the floor was already abundantly uneven and full of rubble and garbage, and the last thing he wanted was to make it even more dangerous.
Concentrating deeply he managed to get rid of all the traces of frost in less than a minute, but the effort strained his body too much: once he had fulfilled this simple task he had to cling to his staff in order not to fall, and the notes emitted by the cases struck him again, destroying what little lucidity he had left.
Now definitely dazed he walked in a random direction, visibly staggering and without even trying to look for the exit: it was not enough in himself to be able to undertake such a challenging quest and, anyway, he had forgotten the urgent desire to escape from there.
With his mind clouded and the nausea rising he proceeded in the crowd, passing dancers solitary and in groups, teenagers full of energy or exhausted, boys and girls clinging to each other in promiscuous and indecent unions, men and women intent on exchanging cigars and bags full of powder, people drinking, anonymous figures who were advancing in the smoke and bright flashes, bodies which emerged from the dark, bestial creatures which attacked each other, and even the shape of a Nightmare majestically strutting, but he wasn't surprised: now nothing made more sense in that pit of hell, in that crucible of human degradation which he had so foolishly got into, and even if he had seen Toothiana's feathered head among all those colourful hairs he would have marvelled.
Suddenly something caught him by the arm and, turning with fatigue, Frost spotted a boy, much younger than him, who was dragging him towards himself, gesticulating and trying in vain to be heard over the music; dazed the Guardian allowed him, following with the irises his lips and letting him grab his left arm and throw it around his neck, and he didn't wander the reason of that gesture, grateful to finally have a stable support; the guy, however, didn't give him time to recover: without any hesitation he began to move, placing his palms on his hips and pushing to make him shake them, and Jack realized he was trying to teach him to dance.
Instinctively he followed him, trying to wave like he did and rejoicing for the smile he sent him when he saw him participate, but soon the nausea gripped him again, in a retching so violent to cause all his chest muscles contract; gleaning all his willpower Frost tried not to throw up, but in doing so he unwittingly drove away his new acquaintance, stepping back and getting lost in the crowd.
Weak and trembling he staggered, experiencing a debilitating feeling every time someone passed through him, and soon he stumbled and fell; gasping in pain he turned his head, struggling even just to breathe, but the only thing he could see among the bottles and the syringes was an army of boots, all blacks, all studded, all intent on beating on the floor to the music rhythm: there was no escape from that infernal reality.
Just when he was about to faint two strong arms pounced on him, hugging him and lifting him off the filthy ground; with much haste, but likewise care, he escorted him through the throng, pushing away the people and dragging him away from the pulsating lights which had already blinded him, and eventually he brought him out of the building.
Shivering for the sudden drop in temperature Jack let himself be laid on the ground and he heard a familiar voice asking him with an anxious tone: «Jack! Jack, can you hear me? My sweetie, can you look at me? How are you?».
Immediately recognizing Pitch the boy smiled, grateful to his love for the fact he had saved him from the nightmare in which he had voluntarily thrown himself, but soon he had to brought his hands to his mouth, to repress another wave of nausea.
Worried the Boogeyman demanded: «Baby, what's wrong? Do you have nausea? Did you eat something by any chance?».
Now able to see clearly again Frost stared at him and nodded weakly, praying he could hold back himself although the movement had stressed him a lot; the reaction he received, however, left him speechless.
«Jack, vomit, now!» ordered him the partner.
Grabbing him firmly by the shoulders he forced him to his knees, opening his legs and bringing a hand to his mouth, clearly intent to shove his fingers down his throat just to make him regurgitate. This gesture, however, was not necessary: it was enough to the boy to stop fighting in order to let himself go.
Following his muscles' movement he leaned forward and threw up, clinging desperately to his lover's forearm to ask him for help, but Pitch had already come to his aid: with the left he hold his forehead, while his right hand he kept his clothes back, making sure they couldn't be soiled and bearing with no problems all his weight; his support, however, was not only physical, but also psychological: even before he could realize it Frost found his face next to his own and he heard his beautiful voice vibrating against his ear, whispering sweet words of consolation and tender encouragements.
Perceiving a second retching coming Jack bent over again, disgusted by the situation, by the fact he was forcing his love to witness and by the sour taste of the stomach acids he was spitting, but unfortunately he couldn't help himself and had to let these flow along the throat, then dripping from his parted lips and mingling with the tears of pain he was shedding.
Trembling he remained in that position for another minute, letting the waves of nausea cross him and then decrease slowly; seeing him now calm Pitch wiped his mouth with his palm and asked him anxiously: «Enough, baby? Have you emptied your stomach? Very good, sweetie. Now I'll take you to a creek not far from here, so you can rinse your mouth, okay? You don't need to cling to me: I'll hold you firmly. Just try to keep your head up and let me know if you feel the urge to vomit again».
Without putting up the slightest resistance the boy let him pick him up and carry him, focusing on keeping his head up as the other had asked him to do, but he didn't have to resist long: after few dozen yards the Boogeyman laid him on the ground again, making him sit on a large, flat stone, then he rinsed his hands and cupped them, offering him a little water.
Touched by his loving care Frost allowed him to pour the liquid into his mouth, sliding it against the palate and turning to spit it out, then, supported by the partner, he bent over the mountain stream, waiting for it to wash his chin and lips and drinking few sips of the cold fluid.
«Jack» suddenly recalled him the man; «Jack, I know you're worn out and stressed, but I need you to answer one question: what did you eat while you were there? It was a pill, right? Was it round or square? Did it have a symbol drawn above? Did you eat one or more?».
Struggling to control his trembling lips the boy replied with difficulty: «Su... sugar...».
The Boogeyman stared at him, puzzled, but then the realization hit him and he asked: «Sugar? It was a fine white powder which looked like icing sugar, right? But it didn't taste good at all, am I wrong? You tasted it and you immediately spit it».
Jack nodded weakly, letting his head dangling from exhaustion, but the man quickly took it in his hands and, giving him a light kiss, commented: «Good boy, my baby, such a good boy: you've been so good at explaining me what you ate. Now come with me: you need to rest».
Putting an arm around the boy's shoulders and one around his waist he helped him standing up, guiding his steps up to a small mossy clearing not far away, then he sat on the ground, leaning his back against a tree trunk; Frost, exhausted, plopped down on his lap, snuggling against his chest to ask him for a hug and rejoicing of the cuddles and the kind kisses he received, and after a while he let out a sigh of relief.
«Do you feel better, Jack?» solicitously asked Pitch.
«Yes, thank you» replied the boy, closing his eyes.
Without any warning the other grabbed his chin, forcing him graciously, but firmly, to raise the irises, and he harshly ordered him: «So tell me what the hell were you doing in a place like this».
Amazed Jack stammered: «I, I do not know, I was passing by to bring the snow and saw all those lights and cars, and then the people, and they looked so strange! I went here just to check what was going on, nothing more».
«Do not try to beat about the bush, Jack!» rebuked him the Boogeyman; «You let yourself be drawn by curiosity without thinking about the consequences, and you haven't decided to leave until it was too late: you've been remiss! Learn not to nose into what doesn't concern you next time!».
Wounded by the stern reproach, come unexpectedly after many cuddles, the boy tried to defend himself: «But I did not know it was going to...».
«Do not even dare to finish the sentence!» interrupted him the man, almost growling; «That awful place was teeming with clues which should have dissuaded you from entering, from the posters outside to the music too loud, violent people, alcohol, syringes and all the disgusting things hanging there, you just needed to pay attention to only one of these to flee away screaming!».
«But no one could see me, no one could hurt me!» exclaimed Frost.
«Everyone and everything could hurt you in there!» boomed Pitch, now beside himself.
Frightened by that fit of rage the boy fell silent, waiting for the other to calm down and remain motionless, and soon he saw him relaxing; he startled when he felt the other grabbing his by the hips, but soon he realized that the partner just wanted to settle him better, so he let him move him and he sat astride his thighs, sending him a contrite look.
The Boogeyman took a deep breath, then, caressing his head, he told him: «Jack, let me explain and you'll understand everything. That gathering where you sneaked into is called "rave party": it's an illegal party, which is organized in isolated places and which can last from several hours to days. As you saw the people who participate to it do nothing but listen to loud music, dance, drink and smoke, but you missed the most important thing: in order to resist for long without collapsing they take drugs. Worldwide there are substances which have effects on the human body and mind, altering the senses, giving energy or stealing it, even causing hallucinations, and the latter are the most popular at raves. Before the festival they are synthesized and processed, producing pills or vials of liquid to inject directly into a vein, then they are marketed and assumed: it's the only way to resist three full days in such a place, without eating and drinking almost exclusively alcohol. They are dangerous substance, able to upset the mind and even kill, if taken in excessive doses: that was why I was so worried when I heard that you had eaten something. Luckily for you you only tasted cocaine: among all the drugs is one of the least hard, and it doesn't explicate its effects if it's ingested. Either way you've risked a lot, because what that guys were smoking were not simple cigarettes: in these places even the smoke can be hallucinogenic».
Aghast Jack asked: «But for what an absurd reason would a person want to harm themselves in this way? Why did these guys come from so far away to risk to die during a party so disturbing?».
The man made a wry smile and answered: «For many reasons and no one, since there is no valid reason on earth to harm ourselves: they do it to break the rules, to go wild, to test themselves, to experience new sensations, to show the others their own strength, and so on. I could continue, but, in the end, the main reason why they come here is only one: to escape from reality. All in these rave, from the pounding music to the drugs, has the sole and only purpose of detaching the participants' senses, even coming to take away from them the awareness they have a body and causing them visions of a life that seems better than the one they are experiencing».
The boy shivered with that explanation and commented: «Absurd... everything is completely absurd. It makes no sense to take refuge in visions when life goes wrong: reality doesn't change until you do something to change it, and take drugs, risking even to die, certainly doesn't help to improve it. Anyway, how did you find me? This place is full of teenagers and adults: you shouldn't be interested in neither of them».
As soon as he heard him asking that question Pitch flinched and dodged his eyes, running the irises along the horizon just to keep himself busy, and a terrible doubt occurred to Frost.
«Pitch, you... you don't usually hang out at these raves, right?» he asked, his voice trembling.
His partner didn't reply, but the silence was an answer far more eloquent than any words. Opening wide his eyes with fear the boy grabbed him by the collar and, with a tone of despair, he cried: «Are you crazy?! You give a roasting to me and then you are the first one to participate? The risks are the same for both of us! Why, why do you feel the need to escape from reality?».
The Boogeyman snatched him by the arm, trying to hold him down, then he explained: «Jack, no, stop, calm down! You didn't understand anything! I do not come to these raves to escape reality, but to use hallucinations for my benefit! Those drugs don't cause only visions, but also give the opportunity to those who take them to see spirits like us, even if they do not believe in our existence, and that, for me, is more than enough to succeed. As soon as I find a drugged person who is able to see me I walk, lure them and then unleash my Nightmares, relying on their greatest fears and absorbing all the horror they feel: it is much more easier than causing a bad dream to a child, since the mind of a drugged man has not the slightest defence, and then the terror emanated from an adult body is decidedly more fortifying than the one which comes from an infant, because, in principle, it's much more difficult to obtain. In some cases, however, it is not necessary for me to summon my powers: those substances guarantee only hallucinations, not pleasant hallucinations. Some people have frightening visions, able to make them scream for hours in a panic and disturb them in the depths, and if these are too overwhelming they can break their will, damaging their mind permanently».
Trembling Jack dared to ask: «What do you mean with "damaging their mind permanently"?».
The man stared at him with a glance so serious to look grave and he said: «It means they never come back, Jack. After few hours the drug's effects end and all the hallucinogenic substances are consumed, but the visions remains: now it's their own mind which creates them, getting trapped into a nightmare world generated by itself, victim of its own fears, fall into a vicious circle from which it can't escape. It's a fate far worse than death, because these people are no longer able to understand or take action, not even to feel sensations, but they continue to suffer. I myself feel pain in seeing them, but the fear is the purpose which I exist for, therefore I can't ignore it when someone donate it: when a man gets lost I use his terror to create a Nightmare, much more powerful than the normal ones, since it has a victim which it can continuously draw power from. Afterwards, however, I leave: I cannot stand the sight of those people, still alive, but already dead, and I cannot bear even the Purebloods born from them. Generally I leave them in the wild, allowing them to torment who they want and not forcing them to come back to fortify me: I own only a dozen of them, one more horrible than the other, and I prefer not to watch them. Now do you understand why I was so worried, Jack? It was enough just to accidentally step on a syringe to ruin your life irreparably».
The boy snuggled against his chest, silently asking for pardon for the immense folly he had done, then a doubt occurred to him and he demanded him: «Pitch, can I ask you something? Why didn't you feel sick before, although, I suppose, you have spent much more time than me there?».
Pitch gasped and he hesitantly replied: «Well, to be sincere, actually we spirits are much more resistant than the humans to any substance able to alter the senses: in some cases we have to take large amounts of them to get some effect, in others, instead, we are simply immune. At raves I've always been annoyed by the excessive volume of the music, but I never felt sick, even after hours spent breathing smokes much harder than the ones you smelled. Frankly, I never expected to see you collapsing in that way, nor, least of all, that you could feel a nausea so intense to vomit: evidently you are more sensitive than normal».
Frost was again gripped by guilt for what happened and he curled on himself, whispering in a weak voice: «Pitch, I'm sorry about it: I didn't want to feel sick in front of you and force you to assist me».
The Boogeyman grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes, then he declared: «Jack, don't say that, even as a joke. I haven't felt neither disgust nor annoyance to assist you: I'm happy to help you, and I'm going to do this every time you'll need it. You know perfectly well that you can rely on me for anything, and I want you to promise me you'll ask me for help whenever you'll be in need and that you'll inform me about your health. Do you promise? Good boy: always tell me how you feel. Now, I noticed that you don't have your staff: did you leave it out of the building or bring it in?».
Struck by that question the boy finally realized the absence of his loyal travelling companion and exclaimed: «For all the storms, I forgot it inside!».
The man smiled and reassured him: «Do not worry, Jack: I'll go and retrieve it. Wait here, okay? I'll leave here Voluptas, so you'll have company and can send it to call me if you feel sick again».
Throwing his arms around his neck Jack thanked him, then he pulled away just enough to allow him to stand up without difficulty; excited by the fact he was about to see his favourite Pureblood he waited for his partner to evoke it with a soft gesture of the forearm, then he stretched out his hands to draw it towards himself.
«Please, Jack, call me if you don't feel well» reminded him Pitch, heading for the building in ruin.
«I will, I promise!» shouted him the boy.
After seeing his silhouette disappearing into the trees he turned towards Voluptas, giving it a kiss on the tip of its sharp nose to greet it, but it surprised him: instead of keeping itself to itself, as it had done initially, or fawning on him, as it had begun to do recently, he sniffed his neck, then it trotted up alongside him and let itself drop. Bending the front legs first and then the rear it laid down beside him, leaning slightly to one side and making sure not to touch him with its hooves, then it turned his head to observe him and pressed on his sternum to make him lay against itself, eagerly licking his arms and chest like a mare would do with her colt.
Amazed by such a caring attitude Frost took a while to react, but as soon as he understood the horse's intention, he relaxed, resting his cheek just below its withers and responding to that sweet pampering with delicate caresses on its muzzle; closing his eyes he let himself go, feeling the animal starting to stroke his belly and allowing it lingering as long as it wanted on that area, and he couldn't say how much time had passed when he heard an amused voice asking: «Am I interrupting anything by any chance? Do you two lovebirds prefer to be left in peace?».
Chuckling the boy replied: «You taught it how to cuddle to perfection: now it's better than you».
«This is a challenge, and I do never back off when it comes to put myself to the test» concluded Pitch.
With a leap he pounced on him, tickling his hips until he heard him laugh out loud and then rubbing his open palms on his chest to calm the shivers, and Jack, once the hilarity subsided, enjoyed that break of sweet and double cuddles, appreciating both Pitch's soft kisses and the Pureblood's coarse ones.
After few minutes, albeit reluctantly, he pulled both away and said: «I'm sorry, but I really have to go now: this stupid detour made me lose precious time».
«You're not going anywhere, Jack: I will not let you until I'll be perfectly sure that you're fine» stated the Boogeyman.
Not surprised at all by the sentence the boy tried to reassure him: «Pitch, please: you see that I'm fine, my fainting spell was only temporary».
«And what if it was not temporary? What if within half an hour it came back, and you were alone, lost somewhere and too weak to ask for help? No, there's not a chance in the world for you to walk away from me until I'll be sure you're fine».
«So what about you accompany me? In my opinion it's the best solution: I'd be able to carry on my work and make up for lost time, you could keep an eye on me and, finally, we could spend some time together. Would you like to?» suggested Frost.
The man reflected for few seconds, perhaps worried that the trip could be too tiring, but eventually he relented and replied: «All right, Jack: actually it's a good idea. Come on, stand up and turn your back on me: I'll help you climb on Voluptas».
Happy to have convinced him to accept that solution the boy stood up, helped by his partner, he waited for Voluptas to stand up, too, and let his lover grab him by the hips; slightly bending the legs he gave a slight boost, immediately raising the left calf to stretch it over the mount's back and get into the saddle, but this immediately lurched on a side, neighing frightened and turning again to caress his belly with its muzzle.
«What happened? Did you inadvertently kicked it?» asked Pitch, puzzled.
«No» promptly answered Jack; «I didn't even touch it: as soon as it saw me stretch the legs to mount it it run away».
«We missed only a Nightmare's whims to complete the evening! Voluptas, what the hell are you doing? Come here, now!» snapped the Boogeyman.
Irritated to see that his servant continued to disobey him he stepped forward, perhaps to make it to stand motionless by force, but the boy had an epiphany and exclaimed: «No, wait: I understood what the problem is! See how it continues to stroke my belly? It's been doing this ever since you went away to retrieve my staff: I think it's convinced that my stomach hurts. Try to let me ride sidesaddle: in that position my belly is well protected from cold and blows, so it should approve».
«As if I needed the approval of a Nightmare to take a ride with you» muttered the man.
Despite the complaints he accepted the suggestion and, grabbing Frost by the hips, he placed him on the Nightmare's withers, with both legs adhering to its right side; throughout the operation the horse didn't put up any resistance, remaining motionless and even stopping to breathe, and when the boy sat it turned his muzzle to make sure he couldn't slip.
«I'll undergo to your whim just because it coincides with Jack's sake, but I will never tolerate other rebellions, stupid Nightmare!» rebuked him Pitch, waving the index in front of its nose to emphasize the reproach.
Bending down to retrieve the staff he handed it to the boy, then he carefully climbed behind him, sitting on its rear to avoid the risk of bumping him and then sliding on its back then to gain a more comfortable position; using his hands to support himself Frost sat down in his lap, slightly moving his thighs to be more comfortable and making sure not to unbalance him.
«Are you ready, Jack?» anxiously asked him the partner.
«Yes» simply replied the boy.
Snuggling better against his chest, in order to fully enjoy his warmth, he waited for the Boogeyman to hug him, then he clung to his waist and let himself be lifted into the sky, shivering with cold and excitement at the idea of the coming ride.
HeilyNeko made another beautiful fanart for this chapter, you can find it on my tumblr or on AO3
I hope you liked this chapter! Feel free to ask me whatever you want. Next chapter will be published on Friday. This week I have more free time than the last ones, but we're still having a lot of thunderstorms, so, if I'm late, forgive me and have a little patience 3