My exams start in two weeks so this may be the last update for a while!
I hope you enjoy!
When Pitch next awoke, it was to the sound of crashing followed by several...colourful...choice words.
He rose from the sofa and made his way to the bedroom.
Anya lay on the floor, clutching her arm in pain. Pitch's eyes narrowed at the sight of blood on her clothing.
"What were you doing?!" He asked, thankful she had picked up yesterday's mess. He kneeled beside her, picked her up bridle-style and gently put her on the bed.
"Sorry if I woke you. You can go back to sleep, if you want." She attempted to sit up without removing her hand from her left arm. After a moment of struggle, she fell back against the pillow.
"If you believe I will let you continue to suffer, then you most definitely have a concussion." He tried to peal her hand from the wound but she hissed loudly and gripped it tighter. "How did you even manage this?"
"Tripped over the suitcase and cut myself on the corner of the bedside desk." Anya's eyes glittered with tears of pain. Through gritted teeth, she told Pitch, "There should be basic first aid stuff in the draw of the desk."
"Ironic how the thing that hurt you holds the cure." Pitch mused.
"Yeah, yeah. We'll talk about it when I'm not losing one of the most vital things needed for survival."
"Sanity?" Pitch grinned, pulling out bandages.
Anya rolled her eyes. "I was gonna say blood but I guess that works, too."
"You're going to have to let me pull your sleeve up." He told her. She stared at him before gently shaking her head.
"I can do it myself. You don't have to worry."
"Considering you can't even get up without taking your hand off the wound I think I have every reason to be a bit concerned." Pitch felt confused. Why was she refusing to let him help?
"Look, it's really personal. Just trust me." She smiled at him. "I'm a big girl, Pitch. I know how to handle myself."
Pitch looked at her for a long moment. A fear bubbled within her. A fear of something being discovered. But what?
"Fine. But at least let me help you to the bathroom."
"Sure, thanks." He helped her stand then followed after her with the first aid stuff. Pitch placed them on the countertop, by the sink. She smiled in thanks and as he closed the door, he saw her pull up the sleeve, exposing thin white lines on her pale skin.
He waited for the door to click shut. When it did, he stormed into the living room, livid.
How many times had he seen marks like that, marring the skin and soul of children? Considering how thin and pale they were, he assumed she got the marks as a chïld.
He snarled, collapsing on the sofa.
It was the worst fear, in his opinion. That feeling of hopelessness, weariness, and misery. Things Bunny, North and that blasted Frost were meant to protect children from, respectively.
Pitch despised this fear with all of his stone hard heart. But was it really stone hard if he refused to even feed on that Fear, because of how horrid it was?
He took a deep breath. Another reason to hate the Guardians. Another reason to use Anya for revenge. Not for himself, but so those fools could see first hand what their mistakes could cause.
The Nightmare King looked out to where to moon was slowly disappearing as the sun rose. He couldn't help but growl, "Fools. Every last one of them."
The rest of the day passed, unceremoniously. Anya was finishing her packing and Pitch had returned to scheming.
"Blast!"
He heard a chuckle. "I think you're the only being that says 'blast' when frustrated."
Pitch sat back, looking at the woman who sat next to him. "It's hardly that funny."
"Your accent makes it funny. That's to blame."
Pitch frowned. He had a distinctly British accent, due to the fact he was often spent time roaming places like London and Manchester. However, this was the first time someone had called him out for it.
"Is that why you let me stay? To make fun of me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He felt a small satisfaction at the stammering that ensued.
"No. No w-why would you say that?!"
He chuckled deeply. "Forgive me. I needed a laugh."
Anya rolled her eyes, tying up her hair. "What's wrong? You've been muttering and cursing all morning."
"It is nothing a mortal, like yourself, should be concerned about." Pitch said off-handedly. He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, massaging his head with his fingers, golden eyes closed.
"This 'mortal' is giving you a roof over your head."
His eyes snapped open in surprise. It had been a long time since someone had put him in his place. Not since-
The scythe went higher and higher. He tried to stop. To turn. To run.
It came down fast and swift, shining as it cut through the air. A scream accompanied it, making him realise.
He had lost her.
"Pitch?" Anya was suddenly in front of him, gazing at him in genuine concern. "Are you alright? You blanked out then started to breathe really quickly."
His breathing was, indeed, shallow and rapid. A deep breath, however, was all it took to rest himself"
"No cause for concern." He said. "Not in the right state of mind, remember?" He told her, tapping a finger to his head.
She let out a breath, closing her eyes.
She had been worried.
She's starting to care. The evil in his mind whispered. All is going to plan.
The plan. Pitch had almost forgotten about it.
Do not let this mortal get in your way. You remember what happened the last time you gave your heart to someone.
He didn't need another reminder.
After looking at him for a long moment, she stood and returned with the chocolate bar Mr Elmsberry had given her yesterday. She broke it in half and offered it to him. He took it hesitantly.
"Eat it. You haven't eaten since yesterday."
He bit into it and quickly found himself enjoying the silky substance. It melted on his tongue, bursting with sweetness.
"I haven't been giving humans enough credit." He said, taking another bite. Anya laughed at him.
"Finish it. After, we're going outside."
"Whatever for?"
"To get you some clothes."
Despite his protests, complaints and - he was embarrassed to admit - hissy fits, Pitch found himself hiding in the shadows as Anya picked out some clothing to wear instead of his usual outfit.
"This is ridiculous." He muttered, earning himself a sharp glare from Anya.
"Oh, hush, you big baby. It's just clothes. You can't go around in the same clothes all the time."
"My robe is made of shadows." He stated, eyebrows raised.
"You're not strong enough to fix the holes in it, I don't know if you remember." She looked like she may say more, but a fellow shopper turned into the aisle. She settled with giving him her own raised eyebrows, every time he made an attempt to complain.
When they left an hour later, Pitch felt her mental barriers go down slightly. Her breathing became a little more rapid and her eyes flickered for escape. One look outside told him exactly why she felt like this.
It was snowing.
"We don't have to go back now." He reminded her. She nodded, staring outside for another second, before turning back inside.
They made their way to the store cafe, where she ordered some coffee.
She took a sip and pulled a face of disgust. "Urgh! It tastes horrible."
Pitch grabbed it and took a sip. He didn't understand why she didn't like it. The smell alone was invigorating.
"Glad to see you're enjoying it." She said, glad she had picked to sit at a table behind a plant. No one could see her here, so she was free to talk with her accomplice as much as she wished.
"So, have you satisfied your need to shop?" Pitch asked sarcastically, casually taking another sip of her coffee.
She beamed at him, ignoring the sarcasm. "Indeed. You can try the stuff on when we get back to my place." Anya hesitated, eyes flicking to the windows. "Speaking of, the snow's stopped falling. Let's get going."
"I look ridiculous!"
He looked far from ridiculous. It was a simple V-neck t-shirt, with black jeans. With it, he wore his normal black boots but in place of the robe was a leather jacket. Pitch looked pretty cool if he said so himself.
Anya gave him a coy smile. "I know you like it!" She sing-songed. Pitch, however, refused to give her the satisfaction of being correct.
"It is...adequate." He said.
Anya made her way to the kitchenette. "Uh huh. Whatever floats your boat." She pulled out some chicken from the freezer.
Pitch hesitated before asking, "Would you like some help?"
She looked towards him curiously. "Sure." She pulled out a chopping board and some vegetables like lettuce and tomatoes. She showed him how to cut it into thin pieces. He took the knife and began cutting. "Not like that." She put her hand over his and guided him. Pitch felt his heart leap at the touch.
When she pulled away, he had to remind himself that he should be glad she had moved. Deep down, however, he was a little upset at how brief the contact had been.
He didn't acknowledge these thoughts for the rest of the day. Maybe, if he pretended long enough, these stupid feelings would go away.
'Blast!'