A/N: Another not quite so happy drabble, but what's a story without a little angst, eh? Next one will probably be a bit more fluffy :P
And as for the Peter Pan thing from the previous chapter (I'm sad no one got this reference lol), Marron's dad has something called Peter Pan Syndrome. Not an 'official' mental disease, but it's meant to describe "younger generations' unwillingness to grow up and their corresponding immature behaviors" (wikipedia) and if taken to the extremes, can negatively impact relationships with other people such as a tendency to avoid commitments and responsibilities.
Edit: Art for this chapter (replace bold with characters): sunatsubu dot deviantart dot com slash art slash Frozen-Tears-358849030
Pain
Jack had experienced his own fair share of pain. He had, after all, lived through three entire centuries without ever knowing who he really was, or why he even existed.
At first, he could hardly stand it. He didn't want to believe that no one could see him, that he would always be invisible to everyone else. Perhaps his denial had only made it worse back then, for he persisted in trying to approach someone with that fragile hope in his heart that maybe this time, this time they might see him. The crushing disappointment every time only served to break him even further.
He had lashed out, once. After yet another failed attempt, the winter spirit had slammed his staff down in frustration and ended up freezing the feet of the child in front of him. The boy had come very close to losing his toes, and crushed by the guilt of what he had almost done, Jack had given up completely on his attempts to interact with other people. He simply watched them, especially the children, fighting his loneliness by imagining he was playing right alongside them.
Still the pain never dulled, but he learned to accept it as a constant companion, as constant as the Man in the Moon. He could even forget it, at least temporarily, as he not only watched children having fun but started contributing to it as well.
He began to realize over the years that the only way to be seen was for people to believe in him. But no matter what he did, no matter how much fun he was able to produce, not one child began to believe in Jack Frost. Over and over again he would be disappointed, taken back to the time when he'd repeatedly tried and failed to get someone to just see him.
He had been so jealous when learning of the Guardians' existence. With teeth, eggs, presents and even dreams...of course they would be easily believed in. But him? All he was to everyone was simply weather, a natural phenomenon that had just always been there. How was he supposed to fight that?
Disappointment, frustration, bitterness, jealousy...it was a wonder he hadn't turned out worse than he had. Somehow though, he'd managed to keep himself away from the darkness of true despair - at least most of the time - with the darkest part of him being nothing more than his sharp biting tongue. As North had jovially commented to him once, 'You turn out ooookaaay!'
But though he'd had 300 years of experience in mastering his own pain, he was helpless to master Jamie's. All he could offer was an ice cold embrace that did nothing but freeze his tears.
