I'm sorry I'm publishing now, as I wrote on tumblr I unfortunately finished the translation only on the last Friday evening and my friend didn't manage to check it even in the weekend, so I had to delay. I hope the chapter will be worth the wait
WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 14
Jack stared at the belly for a long time, trying again to lower the shirt and then rolling it up to expose it completely, then he whispered in a faltering tone: «I'm... I'm already so big...».
Pitch, whose cruel and satisfied grin had grown more and more in seeing the second attempt failed and the final surrender, winced at the comment so unexpected, and he instinctively replied: «Well, Jack, what did you expect?».
Unable to shift both his widened eyes and his open palms away from his swollen bump the boy went on, as if in a trance: «I've got fat so fast, I would have never imagined, I didn't realize it...».
Toothiana, who, in the meantime, had turned again, cast the Boogeyman a withering look, then she sat on the bed, slid her left arm around Frost's shoulders and said: «Jack, you didn't get fat, that's only the child growing: aren't you happy for them? If they're already become so big think about how strong they will be when they'll be born!».
The boy, however, seemed to barely hear that encouraging statement, and, moving the fingertips on the seam between the stomach and the abdomen, he murmured: «No, it isn't only the child, where they are the belly is hard, here instead it's soft, too soft, it's never been like this before».
Realized what was happening the man followed the fairy, settling on the mattress and embracing Jack's waist, then he intertwined his fingers in his and explained: «Jack, this is perfectly normal. All children need a little fat in order to grow well and safe, and the same goes for you: do you manage to think about how painful would be having a protruding belly without something to soften it? The skin would be forced to make sharp bends and it wouldn't be sufficiently hydrated, then you'll end up feeling sore everywhere and all the time, and not to mention the energies: have you looked at your arms? They're much thinner than usual, because the child has stolen you the flesh to made their own, and it's something that shouldn't happen: that's why we made you eat, and we will continue to prepare you new meals until the end of the pregnancy. Trust me, Jack, you must have a reserve, or you're going to feel bad again, and then, you've always been so skinny, so why are you worried about this?».
«So earlier I was too skinny?» asked the boy with a hint of panic in his voice.
At that question Pitch stiffened, pursing his lips and blinking his right eyelid a few times to dispose of the exasperation, then he gritted his teeth and answered: «No. No, you weren't too skinny. And now you're not too fat. You're always perfect, Jack, it doesn't matter if you change weight, if you're pregnant or anything else you've ever imagined: you will always be perfect. Understood?».
Frost, however, was too upset to be able to pull himself together, so, despite the reassurances from the others and a considerable effort from his own part he couldn't help it: he trembled for a few seconds, emitting weak, acute moans, then he brought the hands to his face and he burst into a tears.
Letting out a sigh faintly amused the Boogeyman pulled him even closer to himself, rocking him gently and leaving him all the time and the room to let him vent, never daring to question him or scold him for his behaviour, and so did the woman, caressing his hair and giving him some slight pat on the back to help him relax.
As the crisis, after intensifying and reaching its peak, finally began to subside, a discreet rustle came from the hallway and Sandman appeared on the doorway, holding a glass in his hand and nodding his head to the beat of a music he only could hear; as soon as he saw the scene he stopped, raising his eyebrows to show astonishment, but he recovered almost immediately and, after resting the cup on the table, he rubbed his hands together and slightly bent his legs.
Guessing what the other was going to do the man bared his teeth and snapped: «Woe to you if you dare!».
The Bringer of Dreams, however, blatantly ignored him, taking a short run-up and then throwing himself on the bed, right at Frost's feet, so as to dissipate the momentum in the last few steps and land softly against his chest, then he hugged him, pressing his belly against his and succeeding, in spite of the face covered by all the presents' arms, to stick out the tongue at Pitch.
Outraged by the irreverent gesture the Boogeyman did his best to dodge the newcomer, but he had no way to avoid him without leaving his lover, therefore he was run over, getting trapped in that tangle of limbs and clearly feeling his robe's left sleeve beginning to be contaminated by his nemesis' golden sands. In a vain attempt to preserve his dignity he boomed: «You're both ridiculous, get out! What got in your mind? You're only stealing air to Jack, and space to me! Disappear immediately!».
Obviously neither of them listened to him, and indeed they both tightened the grip, definitely making him impossible to escape and causing him a cramp in the shoulder for the awkward position in which he had been forced to; now lost his temper the man growled, getting ready to elbow and punch the Guardian to free himself, but just when he was about to shake them off he heard a giggle and he froze.
«You're tickling me!» exclaimed the boy with difficulty, arching his back to get away from the effusive display of affection.
Glad to finally see a serene expression on Jack's face still wet with tears Pitch smiled at him, then he pushed the two Guardians and insisted: «Have you heard him? Shoo!».
Prompted by the boy's exclamations and the man's curses Sandy and Toothiana parted, but they remained sit on the mattress, far enough to allow the first to catch his breath easily, but close enough to tease the second, one shaping little hearts of bright sand and the other indulging in dreamy sighs and fluttering her eyelashes; annoyed by the continuous and excessive liberties they kept taking the Boogeyman turned towards them with a growl, ready to pour on them venomous words and, if necessary, also some Nightmares to force them to leave him alone, but before he could even think about acting a voice asked: «What's going on here?».
Glancing towards the door Pitch spotted Bunnymund, his paws curled up and his ears pricked while trying he tried to figure out the unexpected situation, and without hesitation he explained: «Nothing, of course. Rather, Jack needs a new shirt: this is too tight for him now».
«Why does he look like he just stopped crying?» demanded the Pooka, suspicious.
«Because I've just finished washing his face to fresh him up» shamelessly lied the Boogeyman; «Jack, do you feel like wearing a new shirt or do you prefer to keep this? If you're very fond of it we can sew two side inserts, in order to make it larger».
After hastily wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand Frost replied: «No, you don't have to. I'm fond of it, but not to the point to pretend to wear it at all costs. Maybe it's better taking a new one, huh?».
«Yes, taking a new one is definitely better» approved the man; «The belly will surely grow more and more as the months pass, and it would make little sense periodically changing the same cloth: better taking a new one whenever you need it. Well, have you heard? Go find a shirt for Jack».
Hearing such a peremptory order suddenly addressed to himself the Easter bunny startled, then he sarcastically snapped: «Do you need anything else, your majesty?».
Unable to hold back the smug grin that had spontaneously arisen on his lips at that epithet Pitch replied: «I see that you've finally learned to pay respect to and address me with an appropriate epithet, rabbit: it took you a while, but better late than never. No, for now only think about retrieving me a new shirt: I would never want to cause problems to you by giving you more than one task at a time».
Bunnymund took the blow, shuddering and narrowing his eyes, but refraining himself from most blatant reactions, then he shrugged and stated: «Well, what should I say?, I see that you've finally learned to recognize your own limitations and give way to those who are better than you, scarecrow: it took you a while, but better late than never. Don't worry, we'll retrieve for Jack a shirt ten thousand times better than that which you would have chosen, considering how you usually dress».
Struck unexpectedly in what he believed to be one of his strong points the Boogeyman didn't wait and retorted: «Said the one who goes around naked, right? Your digs don't concern me the least: my style is unique and fascinating, perfect for me and perfect at all, to the point that it would be impossible conceiving a better one».
Completely ignoring the fairy, who, in the meantime, had flown to him and tried to convince him to calm down by glaring at him and pulling him by the arm, the Pooka commented: «Actually I must admit it: albeit slowly you're improving. Should I consider the insert on the sleeve as the first step towards a new wardrobe?».
Dumbfounded the man stared at him, unable to make sense of that question come out of the blue, but it did not take long to him to understand: it was enough for him following his emerald irises to lower his own, and, at that point, finally, he noticed his left sleeve, now forgotten, but still corrupted by dense and fine coils of golden sand.
A red veil fell over his eyes and a high-pitched hum deafened his ears, filling him with an uncontrollable rage and, at the same time, preventing him from venting it as he wished, but nevertheless he managed to hear Toothiana exclaiming: «We're going out to look for a new shirt for Jack!».
Seething he watched her shoving the Easter Bunny, jumping forward to retrieve Sandman and then saying goodbye with a smile, the fists clenched to hold back the tentacles of shadow and the teeth gritted in order not to let out venomous sentences, which would have done nothing but worsen the situation and prolong the agony, then, when the trio had left the room, he strode to the door and slammed it after them. He used all his strength to make that gesture, not worrying about the splinters he dug in his palm, nor about the push of the shoulder which, almost involuntarily, he had given and which had undoubtedly caused him a bruise, and yet he felt that that wasn't enough, that the wood's crash and the hinges' screechings had been too weak, too empty relative to the scream he wanted to cry out, so futilely ephemeral in comparison to the infinite anger which pervaded him: he couldn't stand this any more. To be honest, until that moment he had borne very little, just a few hours of company, a couple of ridiculous scenes and a handful of jokes, but he was well aware that this was only the beginning, only the surface of the abyss into which he was sinking: not even for a moment, in fact, he had never deceived himself by believing he could bring Jack out of there. Making this move was too dangerous, too complex, too tiring for his pregnant state: a horseback travel, the only conceivable one to transport him quickly and efficiently over long distances, would have exposed him to a thousand dangers, from accidental falls to blows to the belly, from the icy winds to unpredictable attacks by the enemy, not to mention the destination. Even if he had managed to defend him all the way, in fact, where could he have brought him? In his lair, where he would have seen him withering day by day because of boredom and lack of cures? In an abandoned human house, where retrieving everything he could need would have been slightly easier, but only provided that he periodically moved away, leaving him alone? And Frost, what would he have done in the meantime? Would he have patiently waited for him, or would he have tried to follow him, eventually tumbling for the second time down the stairs? No, none of these plans was conceivable: the best solution was staying in North's Palace, well hidden and protected, well stocked with any food, medicine and furnishings, and yet the very idea nauseated him and threw him into a panic. How much longer would he have had to bear the Guardians and their sadistic game? During the previous months he had learned to get used to them, but meeting them from time to time was one thing, living in very close contact with them for weeks was another: he could already picture them, nosy as only they knew to be while bothering him with any kind of comment out of place and joke, offering advices and personal opinions not required, even touching him, was it for a friendly shove or for a comprehensive caress, and the simple imagining this caused him disgust and physical pain. No, it was useless, he would have undoubtedly had to make huge efforts to keep them as far from him as possible, and to carve out small spaces to let off steam, or he would have blown up within less than a couple of days, but everything always well away from the boy: his little snowflake counted on him to confront and overcome his pregnancy, and he should not give in, nor, least of all, stress him with continuous and repeated outbursts.
It was precisely for this reason that, after standing with his forehead resting on the wood for nearly a minute, he shook himself, took on the more relaxed expression he managed to put together and, turning, simply commented: «Well, now we are alone, at least for a while. How do you feel?».
At that question Jack lowered his eyes, his gaze forlorn as he crouched his legs to make himself smaller, and answered: «I'm sorry for your sleeve, Pitch».
Letting out a tired chuckle Pitch replied: «Oh, nothing irreparable».
With a soft gesture he rubbed his palm on the sleeve, wiping out in the twinkling of an eye the lace of shimmering sand and letting it fall to the ground; the boy stared at it spellbound, making the irises wander to follow every grain and blinking when it dissolved, but eventually he put himself together and said: «The Guardians, however, seem to be a bit "irreparable"».
Surprised by such an observation the Boogeyman asked: «What do you mean, Jack?».
Frost hesitated for a moment, then answered: «They've made you feel uncomfortable again, right? It's useless, it doesn't matter if they make an effort or not, they end up failing almost every time. The problem is that often they don't have a middle way: they either insult you, how does Bunnymund, or they're too expansive, as Toothiana. In one way or another they always try to provoke you, and actually I admit that it's a funny thing, but it's not difficult to realize that it's not so for you».
The man, who, in the meantime, had covered the distance which separated him from the bed and sat next to his lover, put an arm around his shoulders and admitted: «Yes, it's true, they do it very often and I don't I find it funny at all, but it's not a drama: if they remain within bounds I can stand them, and when they exceed I'll find a way to silence them».
The boy chuckled, finally daring to lock eyes with him, and demanded: «Does this way include Nightmares and strings of black sand?».
Rolling his eyes Pitch declared: «Well, who knows, maybe yes, maybe no...».
Jack smiled at the sentence, but he had no fit of hilarity; after a while, indeed, he visibly clouded over, sadly staring at the blankets, and he whispered: «I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I'll ask them to stop».
Annoyed the Boogeyman contradicted him: «No, Jack, it's absolutely not your fault, why do you say such a thing? You are not responsible for other people's behaviour».
Letting out a small sigh the boy countered: «No, it's my fault, if I hadn't insisted in flying in Toothiana's realm I would have never fallen and you would have never had to bring me here, if I had taken care of myself a bit better I would have not needed also their assistance, not to mention the scene I made a little while ago: I was so pathetic, I even started crying, and moreover for such a stupid thing and about which, actually, I don't care at all! I feel so ashamed, I'd want to bury myself, I wonder what you'll think about me now...».
Foreseeing a second crisis the man immediately hurried to prevent it, taking his partner's face in his hands and wiping with his thumbs the first tears he had already started to shed, then he murmured: «Stop, stop, stop: you're getting into a vicious circle. You had a crisis and you felt ashamed of yourself, in the effort to apologize you got upset and you're about to have a second one, and when this will be over you will feel ashamed even more and you'll fall even more into a panic, right? Don't be a dog chasing its tail: you have nothing to be ashamed of. The reason of your anxiety may seem silly, but in truth it is not: you've been used to have the same lean body for over three hundred years and the change you've suffered has been fast and considerable, it's quite normal being shocked. Beyond this, however, in pregnancy it's common having mood swings and overly emotional reactions, often uncontrollable, so don't make a drama out of it, neither now, nor in the future: they won't be up to you, and they won't make you pathetic».
Frost raised a faint smile, caressing up his wrists as he tried to control the trembles, then he explained: «You know, it was so weird! I was lucid, I knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, but I couldn't hold back the tears! I strove a lot, but in the end I was tired and I had to give up. I'm not worried about the belly and I'm not bothered about gaining weight, especially if it's good for the baby. What about you?».
«Me?» instinctively asked Pitch, caught by surprise by the unexpected question; «Are you asking me if I'm bothered by you gaining weight? No, not at all. You would suffer if you stayed skinny, and then, you're so soft...».
Half closing his eyes he hugged him better, resting his cheek against his forehead and starting to stroke with his fingertips that small and soft cushion which, despite the malnutrition, had managed to grow between the boy's swollen bump and the lower abdomen, but this jerked, twisting and shouting: «No, not like that, you tickle me!».
Bending the lips in a sly smile the Boogeyman commented: «I have the feeling that, in this period, you're more ticklish than usual».
He left him in peace for a few seconds, enjoying his expression puzzled and a little suspicious as he returned his look, then launched the attack, pinching both his sides and gently biting his throat; Jack, for his part, was too slow to react and couldn't avoid neither of the two trickeries, soon finding himself immobilized and prey of an uncontrollable laughter, and nothing could his feeble attempts to escape, nor his prayers and rambling threats: seeing him cheerful and carefree was a real joy for the man, and he wasn't going to deny this to himself for no reason at all.
After about a minute the poor victim began to give some sign of surrender and Pitch chose not to further push his luck, well aware of the fact that the other had not fully recovered yet and, above all, that he had just eaten: after biting for a last time his soft skin he grabbed him by the shoulders, helped him to sit up and placed him against the pillows, then he stepped back and waited for him to pull himself together at his own pace.
The boy, who, at first, perhaps fearing a new joke, had tried to drive him out, laid sprawled on the cushions, spreading his arms to catch his breath better while a persistent hilarity kept shaking his chest with continuous laughs, but in the end he managed to compose himself and state: «You're a real idiot».
Not offended at all the Boogeyman sneered, satisfied with the result and amused by his tired look, and he decided to take off his shirt, useless ornament now become a crumpled rag, but, when he tried to stretch out his arm toward him he heard him blurting out: «Don't you dare to do it again, this time I'm ready to defend myself!».
«Silly boy, I'm just trying to take off your shirt» he promptly reassured him.
Pursing his mouth and squinting Frost murmured warily: «Mh, I don't trust you».
Looking up at the sky the man snorted and concluded: «Then take it off by yourself!».
The boy hesitated for a long time before reacting, looking him up and down from head to toe while staying well curled to protect himself, but in the end the desire for cuddles won, so, sporting a pleading look, he raised his arms, both to surrender and to quietly demand to be stripped.
Glad to see him Pitch didn't need to be asked twice, carefully taking off the garment and smoothing it a little before folding it neatly, then he said: «Well, I'm going to put it in the closet. Meanwhile, what new shirt would you like to wear? You need one not too tight, of course, but it would be better avoiding a too wide one, too, otherwise you'll end up catching a cold. What colour would you prefer?».
Scratching his head to ponder better Jack replied: «Yes, indeed you are right, better not to take it too wide: I'll be careful to choose a suitable one. Do you think I'll manage to find it? Uhm, I don't know what colour, white as the old one would be fine, but also blue, or dark green: it's enough for it to be not too bright, about the rest I have no preference. Anyway, shouldn't we have had this discussion before asking others to look for a new shirt?».
The Boogeyman, who, in the meantime, having found the closet occupied by blankets and pillows, had diverted to the dresser and put the shirt in a free corner, closed the drawer, and then answered: «Yes, it would have made more sense, but in this way the Guardians would have found immediately what you're looking for».
«Pitch, you're terrible!» scolded him the boy, crossing his arms in order to better show his indignation, but visibly struggling to hold back a laugh.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, discreetly intruding into the room immersed in warmth and silence, and shortly after the wood was opened with a slight creak, revealing the four Guardians.
«I heard that Jack's belly wants to compete with mine, but it should give up, because it has no chance!» cheerfully boomed North; «I brought some new shirt to remedy the problem: there are not many, because it's been centuries since I had your same size, but I'm sure that you'll find a suitable one».
After stepping aside to let his friends in he closed the door, then he strode to the bed, dropped the bundle he was holding onto the mattress and began to explain what he had found: «This red shirt was my favourite one when I was young! I've worn it so many times, in fact it's a bit bleached out, but the fabric is strong, so it's not ruined. This yellow jersey, instead, is almost new: I used to wear it only on special occasions, but soon it became too tight for me, so I had to put it aside. This colourful one, then...».
He went on to explaining for long, showing to the presents a total of seven different garments, some clear, other dark, some heavy, other light, some embroidered, other simple, but all rather large; perplexed in front of that assortment, so vast, and yet so poor, Frost hesitated, biting his lip as he tried to take a decision, and finally he stated: «Okay, I'll try the green and the dark red ones».
Without waiting for Santa to hand it to him he retrieved the red shirt, shook it off a little to unfold it properly and then put his head in it, contorting himself to find the sleeves, but when he succeeded he didn't need to do anything else: the thick fabric fell by itself, unrolling far beyond his wrists and piling up on the blankets around his waist, and its weight was enough to drag him on the sheets and stretch the neckline to uncover him a shoulder.
«This is not good even as a nightshirt» commented Pitch, who had wrinkled his nose at the mere sight of that patchy wardrobe.
«I'll try the green one, it looks smaller» confidently replied the boy.
Ably disentangling himself from the folds of cloth he undressed, then he grabbed the green shirt and wore it: unlike the first time he had some difficulty, since the tighter cut and the large amount of decorations didn't ease its eased it sliding down the skin, but after some attempts he managed to lower it on the swollen belly, and, looking at himself, he observed: «I think this suits better, don't you say?».
The Guardians, who had carefully studied every single step of the dressing up, didn't answer, merely raising their eyebrows and asking opinions to each other, but the Boogeyman, who didn't need any advice in terms of clothing, literally threw up his hands: he would have hardly been able to imagine a garment worse than that.
«Déjà vu» he intervened, remembering the purple velvet robe which Santa Claus had tried to lend him only a few months before; «No, North, it's not good: it's too large around the chest, too tight around the belly, the sleeves are long and hanging, and the fabric is too thick and rough. Don't you have anything else in the closet?».
«No, unfortunately I don't» confessed the master of the house; «But I can ask the Yetis to sew a new shirt: they've dressed thousands of dolls, now they're very skilled with needle and thread. What colour do you want, Jack? I have a load of wool ready to be carded, and I can dye it if you want».
Jack lit up at that suggestion and was about to answer, but before he could open his mouth the man asked: «Cashmere wool, of course, right?».
«Sheep wool: I don't keep goats in my Palace» corrected him North.
«Sheep wool is not good» stated Pitch; «It's rough and it chafes the skin. Use silk».
Taken aback Santa protested: «But I don't have silk in my laboratory!».
«Are you kidding me?» exclaimed the Boogeyman, shocked; «And how do you make dolls' clothes if you don't have silk? Don't tell me that you use wool!».
«Of course!» confirmed the master of the house; «I use wool to make coats, and satin and chenille for dresses and petticoats».
At that statement that the man rolled his eyes and muttered in a low voice: «For all the Nightmares, the chenille, no fabric worse than this was ever invented...».
«Tell me, Pitch, are you sure you're not pregnant, too?» interfered Toothiana.
Flaring up Pitch barked: «These are not cravings, fools! Jack's skin needs a soft and delicate fabric».
«But his old shirt is made of raw cotton, satin will be fine to replace it!» snapped Bunnymund.
«His old shirt is made of linen, idiot, and I remind you that, anyway, it chafed Jack's belly to the point it almost made it bleed! Ah, but why am I wasting time with you? You are a bunch of incompetents! Stand aside, I'll solve this problem by myself».
Although clearly amused by his outburst the master of the house, the fairy and the Bringer of Dreams refrained themselves from any critic and stepped back to let him pass, but the Pooka, who resented the insults, provoked him: «And what are you going to do to solve it? Will you leave again, this time to a mystical and fascinating journey to the China' most remote valleys, to get the silk once used for the Emperor and coming back after who knows how long, carrying a lotus flower to make us forgive you?».
«I have something better than silk, rabbit» retorted the Boogeyman, giving him a push with his shoulder to pass.
«Pitch, if only you listened to me, I was trying to tell you that any fabric would be...» began the boy, who, since his very first protests, had tried to intervene.
«Shhh» hushed him the man, pressing his index on his lips; «Don't worry, Jack: I promise you you will be totally satisfied with the result».
Frost sighed heavily at that statement, clearly annoyed by the fact that he couldn't express his own opinion, but eventually he gave in and, after taking off the dark green shirt, stared at him, waiting for instructions.
Encouraging him with a gesture Pitch made him stand up, offering him his forearm to give him a firm support while he settled on his feet recently healed, then he took off his robe and dressed him with it, but before he could even think about modifying it the Easter Bunny commented flatly: «Oh, damn, what an ingenious solution, I really can't understand how we couldn't conceive it before».
«Let me work in peace, for once!» retorted the Boogeyman.
Disdainfully turning to have his back on him he knelt down and got started to repair the defects more evident, first of all closing as far as he could the front, then cutting the fabric at the wrists and pelvis, then he sat better and prepared himself to focus on single areas: at first he worked on the part which covered the chest, too large and saggy considered how different their body type were, and he removed two strips of fabric, sewing up each tear with a single gesture and reshaping the darkness so that it perfectly wrapped the rib cage, from the shoulders to the sternum on the front, and to the mid-back on the reverse side; then, after measuring him up by eye, he inserted the two patch torn in the gap which had been left open on the belly, sealing it permanently and creating soft folds which perfectly embraced the swollen bump, thicker in the middle, more sparse on the sides, just like his lover's new shape required; finally, straightening his back, he went to the arms, rubbing his palms on the triceps several times to make the weave tight and move the excess of black sand down, ending it just above the elbow and creating a bell-shaped sleeve, which went down softly and stopped just before the tip of the ulna.
As soon as he finished he arched the spine, trying to gain a better view without moving and to identify what, in the new garment, didn't convince him, and in the end he succeeded: the v neckline, albeit not deep, didn't suit his partner, too serious and provocative, and, above all, too narrow, and it was appropriate to opt for a more simple and airy one. Without hesitation the man touched it with his fingertips, drawing a circular shape which exposed the collarbone, but which covered already part of the second rib, and anyway he left a central cut, in order to allow the boy to bend over and breathe without feeling compelled, and to enliven a little that shirt which, albeit unique in its kind, appeared a little anonymous, since it had no decorations; he allowed himself a moment to gaze at the result, then, after closing the neck with a small bow, he asked: «So, Jack, do you like it? If you want to see better you can open the closet: there is a mirror inside the shutter».
Slightly limping Frost covered the few steps which separated him from the cabinet, slowly opened it guiding the door and then craned his head, peering at his reflection like a child, and only at a second moment in time advancing timidly in front of the mirror to see himself in full; enchanted Pitch followed him with his eyes, touched by the ability with which this managed to be sweet even in the simplest gestures, but the idyll was soon broken by a well-known voice which hissed: «What a fuss over all this, and you ended up making him a women's blouse».
North immediately turned to Bunnymund, glaring at him and trying to scold him in a low voice, but the boy, who, albeit far from him, had heard the comment and seen the scene, intervened and said: «No, stop, don't get angry with Bunnymund at every occasion: he's not very polite, I admit it, but he's always sincere. He's right, this shirt is feminine, but I don't care, and then, frankly, I cannot imagine anything more feminine than a bump».
Pleased to know the partner hadn't got upset by that remark as sincere as inappropriate the Boogeyman stood up, then he reassured him: «Good, Jack, do not care about this nonsense: think only about making sure that it's comfortable and warm, because this outfit is perfect on you. In the end, you would look beautiful as in a military uniform as in a dress».
Blushing at the compliment Jack eluded the compliment, making the gesture to dismiss him with the left hand, but continuing to caress the garment with the right, looking almost in a trance while he followed every fold and, inevitably, redrew his own body's new forms, but, for the second time in less than a minute, the Pooka interjected them, demanding: «Wait a minute, are you saying that, if it were up to you, Jack would wear a dress!?».
Exhibiting a sly grin the man turned, looking up and down at his interlocutor from head to toe and, after casting him an allusive glance, he replied: «If it were up to me Jack would wear only transparent veils, or, better yet, lace lingerie and thigh highs».
Turning his expression from incredulous to upset the Easter Bunny let out a disgusted cry, then he exclaimed: «You're disgusting, he would look awful, I couldn't even be able to look at him!».
«No, you should not look at him, which is very different!» countered Pitch, already feeling the jealousy growing at the idea that other people could enjoyed the vision of his lover in such provocative clothes.
Strangely Bunnymund didn't reply, perhaps because he had realized that the question should not concern him, perhaps, more likely, because he had been shocked by his last statement, but the Boogeyman didn't have time to marvel at his reaction: a few seconds later he felt something adhering to his chest and hugging him tightly, and when he lowered his eyes he saw the partner and heard him whispering: «Thank you, Pitch: it's beautiful».
Taken aback by the unexpected surge of affection the man almost risked to step back, but he soon pulled himself together and, gently stroking his head, he murmured: «You're welcome, Jack. Are you happy we've solved this problem?»
«Yes, a lot» enthusiastically replied the other, raising two irises full of joy to him and caressing his naked back; almost immediately, however, he became serious and went on: «We have solved a problem, and this has been a great relief for me, so now I would like to solve another one: you have to call my Nightmare».
They had argued for hours on the issue, talking quietly, expressing their own reasons, arguing and even insulting each other, but for a long time they've been far from reaching an agreement: Pitch continued to believe that the Nightmare was too dangerous, Jack that it was innocent, both of them had not surrendered, and neither of them had been able to find a solution acceptable to himself and the other. The Guardians, of course, had soon intervened, at first to demand explanations, then to calm them, and they hadn't taken long to side with: North and Toothiana had given support to the boy, insisting that, after months passed in close contact, it was very improbable that the Pureblood had rebelled and decided to attack the very one who had grown up it and who it had always respected; Bunnymund, instead, making a virtue out of necessity, had backed up the Boogeyman, arguing that that demon was unpredictable and uncontrollable and that it shouldn't be absolutely allowed to come close to Frost, especially considering his pregnancy; Sandy, finally, who, among all of them, was the most reflective and who, unable to speak, had more difficulty in asserting himself in the high pitched discussions, had abstained, standing aside and watching the contestants thoughtfully. Fuelled by additional opinions, the quarrel had been further extended, enriched with new points of view, but also with new reasons to fight, and slowly new suggestions had emerged, that finally tried to mediate between the conflicting ideas, but another half hour had passed before they could find a compromise: only when the man had stared at the boy in the eye and realized how deep were the sadness and the disappointment which clouded them, in fact, he had understood how important the question was for him, and he had decided to take a step forward and hold out his hand.
At first, of course, he had made him lay, massaged a bit his temples and prepared him a tea, doing everything he could to ease the fatigue that, in the rush to defend his ideas, he had accumulated, and to loosen and dispel the stress which the wearing bickering had caused him; then, consulting the master of the house, who, for obvious reasons, had a voice on the coming and going of guests in the Palace, he had decided to organize the meeting in that same bedroom, calling four big Yetis to guard it and allowing all the presents to arrange themselves as they wanted and to keep their weapons ready; finally, after sitting on the mattress and settling Jack on his lap, he had hugged him tightly, and summoned Voluptas to assist them closely, some medium-sized Nightmare in line from the door to the bed and several tentacles of shadow to fill up, more or less, any remaining space.
«Pitch, don't you think you overdid it? It's impossible to breathe in here» commented the boy when the other had finished.
«Frankly, if I was completely sure I could control it, I would draw here even Behemuth to give a hand» stated Pitch.
Snorting Frost raised his eyes to the sky, then he said: «I won't comment just because I know you would never do it, but know that you didn't make me laugh at all. Seriously, I struggle breathing and I'm sweltering, can't you remove something?».
«And in fact you shouldn't have laughed, my statement was not a joke» retorted the Boogeyman.
He stood still for a while, reluctant to grant the request he had been asked and unable to choose what, among the irreplaceable defences he had raised, was less necessary than the others; he pondered for a few seconds, then, proceeding by exclusion, he decided to sacrifice a couple of beasts bringer of bad dreams, halve the spirals of darkness and recall all those left around the bed's head, to create a sort of crown which, since it was out of the boy's sight, could not annoy or scare him, but which, looming directly over him, would have had an intimidating effect on the awaited guest.
«Thank you, Pitch» whispered Jack, twisting his neck to cast him a smile; «I'm ready. When you feel like doing it call the Nightmare».
Muttering to himself the man leaned back against the pillows, then, feeling himself too tense, he straightened up, he tried to bend his legs and then to stretch them, to smooth the folds on his robe and therefore to drape it better on the blankets, contriving any expedient in order to gain time, but in the end, run out of ideas and finding himself more agitated than before, he decided to throw in the towel and get to work: he had no way to avoid that task, so it was preferable to hurry up and get it over once and for all. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, focusing to sink into the darker side of his own conscience and get in contact with all his servants, then, once made a rough selection, he immediately spotted what he was looking for. He was no little surprised to find it so quickly and easily, considering how he had driven it out the last time he had met it, but the beast, indeed, seemed neither diffident, nor frightened: it had showed itself in his mind, forcefully imposing its disturbing and mischievous presence, and, judging by the energy with which it had done this, it seemed it had been waited for this moment for days and days. The final confirmation of this feeling, however, came when he sharply ordered it to appear before him: he almost didn't have the time to mentally shout "Come here, I'm waiting for you" that the horse whinnied and started to gallop, reaching in a blink of an eye the circular opening of North's Palace and thus revealing that it had remained hidden all the time in the surrounding caves of ice, in silent wait.
Albeit annoyed both by the creature's affront and by his inability to notice it until it had decided to show up, Pitch tried not to give it too much weight, staying focused in order not be caught by surprise a second time, and when he felt that the being had reached the door he swallowed, holding his breath and keeping his powers ready.
Announcing itself with a slight chilly breeze the Pureblood crossed the threshold, emerging gradually in the light of the fire in all its tantalizing beauty, the body lean and slender, as always, the mane even wilder than usual, and the tips of hooves, legs and neck adorned with a thin cap of frost, which made it look even more beautiful and deadly; after pausing for a moment to let everyone gaze at itself it moved slowly among the present, not even glancing at them and even lashing its tail when Bunnymund crouched to get ready to attack, its fiery eyes well locked on the boy; finally, after passing the footboard, it went along the side and leaned over Frost.
As soon as he saw it getting closer the Boogeyman stiffened, bending the tentacles of darkness to create a looming and menacing dome and holding his lover even tighter, but this said: «No, Pitch: leave it».
Albeit not convinced the man slightly loosened the grip, wrapping his right arm around the partner's chest and resting his left hand on his belly, but when he felt him moving it away and lifting the shirt he hissed at him: «Are you crazy by any chance!?».
Pressing his index and middle finger's back on his lips to hush him the boy whispered: «Shhh, trust me».
Sweating blood Pitch watched Jack uncovering himself, opening his legs a little and resting his forehead against his neck, exposing himself without fear and without shame to the Nightmare which, less than a week before, had tried to tear him to pieces, and then the Nightmare itself, who immediately took advantage of the concession; almost trembling he saw it craning the muzzle, breathing heavily against that swollen belly so unusual for a male body and almost touching it with his dilated nostrils, the tension which almost killed him while the animal slowly opened its mouth to show its sharp teeth, and he missed a beat when he heard Jack moaning softly, anyway refraining himself from intervening; in the end, though, just when fatigue began to take over and make him lower his guard, he saw the Pureblood snorting and straightening with a jerk, and he was certain he had failed. Startled by the sudden movement he couldn't avoid to jump, but he also took care to drag the boy with himself, hugging him with arms and legs to protect him as much as possible and releasing his shadows to punish the unruly servant, but this didn't bat an eye: with a buck it shooed the swirls of black sand, tilting its head he effortlessly dodged the boomerang the Pooka had promptly thrown at it, then, after turning solemnly, it walked away at a trot.
Dumbfounded the Boogeyman raised his head, looking in amazement the elegant shape of the creature disappearing swaying over the threshold, and he couldn't do anything, neither composing himself, nor speaking, nor thinking: what had just happened was incredible and had no explanation.
«What did we tell you, Pitch?» commented Toothiana, waiting for the Nightmares left to disperse and then closing the door.
«It didn't... it didn't attack» murmured the man.
«It had no reason to attack» simply explained North.
Sitting up again and holding Frost, who, in the meantime, and half closed his eyes to recover, like a child, Pitch focused, maintaining the mental contact between himself and the animal to figure out where it had headed, and when he felt it stopping everything become clear.
«It's a stallion» he explained to the Guardians; «He took position on a spur above the Palace, drew the Nightmares which were gathered here and sent them in the surrounding caves: he's ready to defend ourselves, or, rather, to defend Jack, in case of attack».
This discovery, of course, responded only to some of the thousands of questions which had arisen spontaneously in his mind, and no doubt not to the most important one, but soon the fairy intervened to solve it, saying: «I would say that this is yet another demonstration that the child is yours, Pitch: for what other reason would your Nightmare have troubled himself to come here to study them and then guard them?».
Despite the reasoning was perfectly sensible the Boogeyman refused to believe it, too shocked and too closed to the idea, and without hesitation he retorted: «I would say that this is yet another demonstration that my Nightmares are unpredictable creatures and must be kept far away from Jack».
«Make at least an exception for the poor lady Voluptas!» exclaimed the Guardian with a laugh. ¹
Not amused at all by the joke the man clouded over, still confused by what had happened, but then, made suspicious by a detail in the sentence uttered by his interlocutor, he instinctively demanded: «Lady?».
Toothiana, who had already flown up to the window to open it and refresh the room now become sweltering, answered: «Yes? What did I say wrong? Maybe you hadn't realized she's a mare?».
Struck by that revelation Pitch was finally able to explain the reason of Voluptas' loving attitude, from the affection she showed to the boy to the attentions she dedicated to him, including the infinite and tender licks she never forgot to give him, especially on the belly, and which he had tried not to give much weight to in order to better focus on more important issues, but feigning nonchalance he replied: «No, I had realized it, I was just amazed to see you had noticed it, too. Jack, how do you feel?».
The partner, who, in the meantime, had curled up with a faint groan against the Boogeyman's chest, stirred a little, as if he was reluctant to wake up, but eventually he opened the irises and, displaying an angelic look, asked: «Can I have some chocolate?».
¹ In Italy we inflect most of the adjectives, which, therefore, sound and are written differently according to the gender and number of the noun they're referred to. In this case the neuter gender (which works like the masculine) would have required the word "povero", but Toothiana used "povera", which is a feminine adjective, so Pitch could immediately notice this and understand she was considering Voluptas a female; in English, unfortunately, there's no difference, so I had to use the word "lady", which is a bit flashy, but which, actually, is the best solution I could conceive
I hope you liked this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment, if you want to, I always like receiving my readers' opinion about the story. Next chapter will be published on Friday. Have a nice evening!