Title: Black Painting, Chapter 3

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: Here comes the end. And, I kinda hate myself for killing Pitch in this story, so I might just put the extra chapter of happy ending.

Is that good?

Anyway, enjoy! :D

"'Ey, Pitch, it's snowin' outside. Do ya want ta see it?"

Nodding, he stepped out from his bed. Dr. Sanderson helped him taking off the annoying hoses and also helped him changing his hospital attire to a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black sweater along with casual jeans.

They walked to the parking lot where Aster's gray Ford was waiting.

It was freezing outside, was what Pitch thought the seconds they left the hospital. It wasn't warm like his room or his flat. But still, it was pleasant.

Aster drove them somewhere and they stopped by an old park. It was still well maintained, but there was hardly anyone because of the newly opened park near the town center. They sat on the cap of Aster's car.

"This is my first time seeing snow and actually touch it," Pitch admitted shyly.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he said, "My body can't stand extreme temperature, so I rarely stepped out from my home."

"Are ya okay now?"

Pitch smiled. "You are enough to keep me warm," he said while snuggling closer to Aster.

He might've been blushing because he felt heat creeping to his cheeks. Collecting all the courage he had, he slipped his hand to hold Pitch's. There was no protest coming from the other, so he kept stayed in that position, enjoying every second of it.

A cough escaped Pitch's lips and it was the cue to be going back home. "Let's go back," Aster said.

Pitch wanted to argue, but he couldn't make Aster even more worried that he already was. So he kept his protest to himself when Aster let go of his hand to help him get down from his seat. "Okay," he replied.

The next day too, Aster took him somewhere. This time, they drove to and old church. It was almost dark and only some people walked around the avenue, rushing to be home so they could be warming themselves up and reuniting with their families.

Pitch admired the building inside and outside. He liked how the candles were lit and illuminated the entire room and he liked how the lamps outside were placed in the right places to make the garden looked warm even in the winter scenery.

They sat on the car again. And Aster didn't know what struck him, but he found himself was holding Pitch's face in his hands and pressed his lips on the other's thin ones. They were cold from the air, but warming up slowly in the kiss. And that was where the kiss started to heat up.

Aster pushed his tongue on Pitch's lips and they parted immediately, granting him the access to the warmer inside. Their tongues collided with each other's and after what felt like eternity, Pitch gasped from lack of air.

"That was… amazing…" he pant out.

"Really? I thought ya woulda kissed someone great before."

"Oh, no. That was my first kiss," Pitch replied, almost regaining his breath. He leaned to Aster's hand when it cupped his face.

"So, can I have yer second?" Aster asked, staring into his eyes lovingly.

"Why, yes of course you can," Pitch answered and they were soon kissing.

"And, how 'bout yer third?" Aster asked again after they regained their breath.

"Aster, yes, you can have my third, my fourth, fifth and so on," was the reply.

After many kisses shared between them, they just sat and talked about things before Pitch fell silent all of sudden and Aster called his name in horror just to find that Pitch had fallen asleep, but was awaked because he called. "What's wrong, Aster?" he asked sleepily.

"No. It's just… never mind. Let's go back, yea?"

Pitch didn't protest again this time when Aster untangled his arms from him.

The third day was the sea. The sky wasn't clear with the clouds covering but there was a gap wide enough for the moon to shine proudly above the waters and poured them with moonlight. They parked on the empty wharf and sat on the same spot as the previous days.

Aster kissed Pitch lovingly on the lips and wrapped his arms around the lithe body and they just enjoyed the night.

A cough escaped Pitch's lips again and Aster quickly untangled his arms before he was soon pulled back to his seat.

"Just stay like this," Pitch pleaded.

He was worried, but he complied. He sat back and listened to Pitch's steady breathing. Pitch talked about things he had said yesterday, mostly just to keep the silence away. Then Pitch didn't say anything and he thought that the other was sleeping again. Just like yesterday.

"Pitch?" he called.

Only this time, there was no answer.

Aster walked into the hospital with Pitch in his arms.

The body was cold and it didn't move anymore. The heart had stopped.

Dr. Sanderson was called, along with another doctor who immediately screamed at Aster asking what he had done that Pitch was now dead.

But the Blacks came in time. Henry told the doctor that they were fine with that, Eleanor cried but she smiled and stroked her brother's black strands. Lily didn't cry this time.

"It's really okay, doctor," she said. "He looks so happy."

After the funeral, Lily wished to talk to him.

And she thanked him. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

"What is it for?"

"Well, my biggest fear is that Pitch would never meet someone, but he met you. So… thank you." And she walked away.

Jack came over to him. "I'm sad that he's gone," he said.

"Why?"

"Well, he was a very good person. He taught me how to make good chocolate cakes too."

Aster smiled at pouting Jack.

"Oh, I just remember now. He told me to tell you just in case he couldn't that he usually drank milk tea in the morning and black tea with six cubes of sugar in the evening. Don't know why he told me to, but you've got your message."

With a laugh, Aster ruffled Jack white hair. "I think I remember why," he said before turning away and walked to his car with Jack.

"What's that? A canvas?" Jack asked when he saw something wrapped in white linen was laying nicely on the back passenger's seats in Aster's car.

"No. It's a little reminder of how I met 'im," he answered.

"Oh, a painting, huh? What is it called?"

With a smile, Aster looked at his friend and the words slipped out from his lips oh-so-fondly; "Caging Shadows."

Three years went by so fast. Aster stood in front of Pitch's grave with a bouquet of fresh lilies. "I don't know what flower ya like. They are fine, ain't they?

He laughed when a breeze blew so softly, bringing the smell of spring, of new hope.

"You're not afraid anymore, right? Ya can still see me even from up there."

He put down the lilies. "Jack made some good cake today," he said while kneeling down and leaned to the cold gravestone. "Ah, ya must've thought that I've forgotten how many kisses we'd had. You're wrong."

He pressed his lips on the name.

"And that's our thirty first kiss. You'd bettah remember too."

Then he got up and turned to leave. A soft wind blew again and Aster turned back fast enough to see a figure of a gold-tinted silver eyed teen with black hair and pale white skin before it was gone.

Smiling to himself, he muttered, "What a nice day."

END

Err… I don't know what to say because, hell, this is just too sappy. And too many OOCness. And I hate tragedy even though I like writing it. I hate myself! OAO

So, thought?

Love and a bit of desperation
Shirasaka Konoe