Title: Black Painting

Summary: Is hope too much for him?

Pairing: Human!Bunnymund/Pitch

Rate: T?

Disclaimer: I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

Pointless Rambling: Yesh! Chapter two! Woo-hoo! *Slapped for being too loud* Teehee.

Well, this is the second chapter, and I'm still kinda thinking (wow, never knew I could do that) if I should just put an alternate chapter for the happy ending 'cuz… well, I just don't like if I end up killing a character or two in my story (but I still do it anyway). If you have an opinion, please do tell.

And thank you so much for those who review and fave this story. You guys are just the best in keeping me writing! XD

Then, without further ado, enjoy~! :D

"How is he?" Aster asked as soon as the doctor came out of the room.

"He is fine. Probably just forgot to take his medicine," the blonde doctor said as he scribbled down something on his note.

"Fine? Ya called that fine?! He was hurtin' on his chest when he fell down and he was suffocatin' and you said he's fine?!"

The doctor coughed and reminded him that they were in hospital and there were a lot of sick people who needed rest and peace. "I know that you are worried. But, rest assured, he is fine because I've seen him vomiting blood before."

"Wha?" he asked, confusion starting to take over his mind.

The doctor looked equally confused. "I thought you know."

"What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

Coughing some more, the blonde said; "Why don't you just talk directly to him? He's awake now."

Aster nodded and walked inside the room. There was Pitch with hospital attire white and clean, resting on the white sheeted bed with light tosca blanket covering his body and there was a lot of tube with fluids inside them hanging on the hanger beside the bed, attached to his pale white skin with slim, clear hoses with needles on the end which pierced through places on his skin.

"How're you feelin', mate?" Aster asked concernedly.

"Much better, I think," Pitch answered. He didn't look like his usual self; instead he looked so sick and so little.

"The doctor said you're fine, but I don't think—"

"I'm fine, Aster."

"But ya were…"

"It's alright."

"Tell me what I don't know 'bout ya. And, no, it's not a saying. I mean it."

With a sigh, Pitch motioned him to sit next to the bed. "What do you see?" he asked when Aster had taken a seat, pointing at the heart monitor.

"I don't understand. The graphic isn't stable."

"Exactly. My heart isn't functioning normally. It rather beats too hard or too soft."

Aster nodded.

"Not just my heart. My organs are weak and they're not functioning as well as they should be."

"But, that means you're not fine."

"I'm fine, compared to my condition in some other time. And considering that I had actually passed the life expectation the doctors had, I'd say I'm great."

"Life expectation?"

"They said that I should be grateful if I even reached my sixteenth birthday. But, look at me. I'm eighteen and I'm still here."

"I didn't know…"

With a sickly smile, Pitch replied, "You're not supposed to." There was quietness filling the atmosphere for a while. Then Pitch broke it. "I'm sorry about the awful things I said about your painting."

Aster shrugged. "Nah, it's fine, mate."

But Pitch shook his head. "No, it's not. It was really a good art, I was just… I knew you were the one who made it, and I was afraid I would get close to you, so I said it to make you pissed off and keep a distance at me, but then I found myself get drawn to you… and… I don't know… maybe the only thing I hate about that picture is that it's filled with so many colors almost like… hope. I hate it."

"Why? You hate hope?"

"Maybe because I just want to live longer. I hate to have hope. It makes me happy, but it turns out fake."

Aster scoffed at that. "Ya were hopin' to get better?"

"Yes."

"So, there's no wrong in hopin'. Jack was leukemic when he was ten and he turns out fine now. I have a friend who used to have brain cancer, but he is living well now. My liver wasn't healthy at all when I was a kid, but after I got a donor, I'm fine. So, why can't ya hope?"

A sound of bell ringing filled the room. "The visiting time is over," Pitch reminded.

With a last smile, Aster waved his hand to the sick teen on the bed. "Just, don't stop hopin'. I'm sure there'll be way."

Pitch was staring blankly at the white ceiling of his room. The blonde doctor was taking note of every little detail about his condition.

"Hey, Dr. Sanderson," he called.

"Yes, Clifford?"

"Do you think there is any even little possibility that I can be cured?" he asked, now staring to the doctor's warm hazel eyes.

With a sad face, the doctor stroked his head soothingly. "I'm afraid not. Especially if you keep on skipping you meds."

"But I don't like taking them."

"Why? It keeps you alive longer."

His brows were furrowed. "They taste bitter, and they often stuck in my throat, and I hate to see the colors, and no matter how routine or even obidient I am to take them, I still won't have the chance to be cured. So, why bother?" he asked, voice was quivering.

"Like I said, it keeps you live longer."

"Like how long? Two months? Two weeks? It's the same even if I die now. I won't get the chance to see the world anyway!"

"Pitch…"

"Are you done checking my condition? If yes, then please leave. I'd like to get some sleep," he said later, flopping down om the bed and turned his back to the doctor.

The blonde only sighed and walked away. He knew from the tremble on his patient's shoulder that he wasn't supposed to see the other cried.

"Oi, how're you feelin' today?" Aster came with a smile, hoping to bring some cheer into the gloomy room. But Pitch's reaction was shocking.

"Get out, Aster. I don't want to talk to you."

"Pitch?"

"Please? Just get out and stop giving me false hope."

"What happened?"

"The doctor said that there is no way I can be cured. So, stop telling me to hope for it. I'm sick," Pitch said, tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes.

Instead of walking out from the room, Aster came closer and wrapped his arms around Pitch while occasionally caressed his head.

The black haired teen cried and clutched his hands so tightly on Aster's shirt, his body trembling greatly from the soft sobs and sniffles he let out. "I'm afraid, Aster. I'm afraid of dying, more that I've ever been before."

"Why?"

"Before, I thought I would just die alone, leaving no one I care behind… but then I remember that I have my parents, I have my sister. Still, I think I would only leave them, so I don't really care. But, I've been keeping distance from you, yet I'm attached. I'm scared of dying now that I've… come to like you…" the last part was like the last time they had a tea together; chosen so carefully. Maybe it was because Pitch didn't want to risk it. What if Aster didn't like him back and feeling grateful that he was dying instead?

"You're not afraid of dyin'… you're just afraid ya'll never see me again."

"Is that so?" Pitch asked with a trembling voice, but relief was somehow clear in it.

"Yea. And that's why… I think I'd like to spend some days with ya. Until ya get bored of seein' my face. And then, ya can die peacefully." A laugh broke between the sobs. "How's that sound?"

"So insanely wonderful, Aster. I like the sound of it."

He was on the way to Pitch's room when someone called him.

"Oh, Aster. Have you met them? This is Eleanor, Clifford's sister, Lily, his mother, and Henry, his father," the blonde doctor, Sanderson, introduced him to Pitch's family who came a long way from London to meet Pitch.

"Nice ta meet ya," he said.

"So you are Aster. Pitch has been talking about lately," Eleanor said with a weak smile.

Her mother wasn't smiling at all, she was crying. He was concerned and also curious why the woman wasn't stopping at all. "Oh, Pitch said about wanting to live longer, and she's been like this ever since," the black haired young woman, maybe not far from twenty one, answered the unspoken question.

"Oh…"

"Well, we'd better head out. If you will excuse us, Dr. Sanderson, Aster."

"Yes. Be careful on yer way."

"Thank you."

When the family left, Aster walked inside the room with a smile in hope to lighten up the mood.

He was coming home from the supermarket when he met with Mrs. Black. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," he greeted.

"Aster isn't it?" the woman replied him. Her eyes were red, probably from the crying yesterday. "I'm sorry I haven't properly talked with you. I was just… sad about yesterday."

"Nah, it's okay, Ma'am."

"Lily is fine."

Aster nodded. Then he spent time with the middle-aged woman on the park near the supermarket.

"I'm really a bad mother, aren't I?" she said after she talked about how she used to want Pitch to just die already because she couldn't watch him suffer and she didn't want to have too much memory of him because she was afraid they would make her sad when he was gone.

"No. Every mother has their own way to express their love."

"But I want him to die sooner."

"If his sickness could be cured, what would ya wish?"

"I'd wish for him to get better soon."

"But ya know there is no hope, so ya don't want him to suffer much. That's enough of a love, I'd say."

Lily laughed bitterly. "It's getting dark. Maybe we should go home?" she said with a warm smile.

"Ah, right. Mmh… Lily, I'd like to say somethin' first."

"Yes?"

"I think I'm in love with yer son."

"And?"

"I thought that maybe I can spend time with him before he gets worst… so, I'm askin' yer permission ta—"

"Take him and see around? Please, do so," the woman answered before he even got the chance to finish.

"But, it might be bad for his health…"

"Well, two days of seeing something he's never seen is better that spending two months in hospital and getting worst without knowing how beautiful this town is. That's what you're thinking, right, Aster?"

"More or less so."

"Then you have my permission."

With a smile, he leaped away home after saying goodbye to the woman.

End of Chapter 2

Well, I hope this didn't come out as bad as I think it is. *crosses fingers*

Please tell me if I should change anything in the story, and please tell me if I should or should not write an alternate chapter.

See you next time then~!

Love and peace and yoghurt
Shirasaka Konoe