Hey, so... I don't have a title for this one... I hope some of you readers could come up with suggestions for me... Cuz... I got nothing...
Ba-da ba-da, ba-dadedadum! And nobody will ever be able to figure out what song I was just singing!
Now then, moving on past all that… I decided to, yet again; ignore what I have going and what I need to update in favor of starting ANOTHER story to neglect. It seems that I am only happy when I have a writing baby to neglect. Gosh, Pitch's sand is so pretty… It has a bluish purple glow… Shiny… *_*
Anyway… Let's move ahead to what I was starting to say. CRAZY thunder storms for the past two nights where I am. It's pretty… Loud, too…. Ooh, look at Sandy. Work that helicopter, gurl. Oh, right… What? What was I –oh my goodness, Bunny butt! And my ADHD has officially set in.
Who would have figured one of the most famous horror novel writers in the world wouldn't have many friends? Who could have guessed that one of the darkest, scariest figures in literature wasn't one of the most popular people on the block? And even those who didn't know who he was- like they'd want to hang out with a freaky grey skinned man. Pitch Black was weird, scary, terrifying even. Nobody enjoyed spending time with him. He didn't blame them. But still, it got lonely… He often found himself paying visits to old college enemies and going to less than proper venues for some…pleasurable company…
Pitch Black needed somebody in his life… And unfortunately, that usually ended up being a prostitute for just a night or two. But, because prostitutes are how they are, they didn't like getting attached to their customers. So then he'd be heartbroken after another night of desperate need for contact. And that would lead him to visit people he'd rather never see in his life ever again.
Such as the two men he was currently dining with. A short, spiky blond haired man who was technically his cousin in some matter of speaking, and a tall, built, blue-black haired man who he had met once on a fling that didn't get past first base. Sanderson and Ed Aster. Two wonderfully disgusting characters- full of color, life, happiness, oh, and people to brighten their lives. Ed with his on again, off again girlfriend Toothiana, and Sanderson with his hordes of children that seemed to flock at him from all corners of the globe. (A children magnet, as it were…) Pitch couldn't stand to be around their incessantly smiling faces. But, right now he just needed someone to talk to who wouldn't run away from him after one night together. The problem with these two was that they seemed to keep coming back, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of them.
Ed was talking about how their friend Nick was meeting someone today. Pitch honestly wasn't listening, he was too busy thinking up ways he could base a novel off his experience. Tortured to death by sitting with two freakishly different beings made entirely of color. They eat away at your brain, chewing the marrow from your bones as they talk of their dinner from last night. They force you to suffer, while you are chained to a chair as they slowly eat your body and soul. That was good, Pitch liked that…
"Pitch, 'ey, you listenin'?" Ed asked, nudging Pitch's arm. Blinking up from his cup of black tea, Pitch tried to look like he had been dosing instead of blatantly ignoring him. Smiling with his wide, buck teeth, Ed said, "Nick's taking in a foster kid today! He might even end up adopting him!"
Rolling his eyes subtly, Pitch asked, "Oh, really? And how old is the bundle of joy?"
"He's eighteen," Ed said, smiling at the way Sanderson bounced on his chair in excitement, "He's been bouncing from place to place, apparently, after he was orphaned. The school was worried that his life would be ruined, so they asked if anyone wanted to take him in and give him a home!"
"And Nick said yes…" Pitch grumbled, finishing the sentence, and hopefully the conversation altogether. He hated listening as they drolled on about their daily lives. He called them hear in the hopes that they would clear up his own problems, not blather about their own. (Actually, Ed did most of the blathering. Sanderson was actually pretty quiet.)
Ed smiled brightly. "He's offered to take him out to dinner for their first night together. Nick actually invited Sandy, Tooth an' me. And he was wonderin' if you'd come too," he said.
Pitch chuckled lightly. The jolly fat man inviting him to a public get together? Fancy that… More inspiration for another story, anyway. What was the harm in making some more money? "That sounds… charming…" he said after a while of silence.
Hitting Sandy's arm, Ed said, "See?! And you thought he'd say no!" Sandy laughed and swatted at him a few times. Pitch found the discourse absolutely revolting.
"So, we'll see you at the Varg Tavern in about an hour, right?" Ed asked as he and Sandy left.
Waving his hand in dismissal, Pitch grumbled, "Yes, yes, you will see me soon enough…" And with that, he closed the door in their faces and walked off to his study. He sat down and began work on his next gory masterpiece. After typing for near fifty minutes, he got to his feet and decided to put on something a little more presentable than what he had on. After all, he had to look good for Nick's newest protégé… Sarcasm very much intended. Honestly, the man was trying so hard to get a child to grow up to be just like him. Was it not enough that he and his wife had raised a good five children years ago? The man returned to college to earn another degree, which was where he met him, and now he couldn't stop taking in kids. Apparently having all five of his children go into the medical field was not what he wanted.
"Should be happy… They're all richer than the fucking queen…" he grumbled, pulling on the solid black jumper that fit him perfectly since high school. He hadn't grown any fatter in all those years; he couldn't say the same for Sanderson or for Nick. (Both had become very portly since their college days.) Ed had maintained his physique, but that was only because he was a health nut. Pitch never cared for all the weight lifting or the nature walks. He preferred staying cooped up in his dark little house. When no one could see your grey skin, no one could mock you for it.
Heading to the Tavern (why the hell did Nick pick a tavern for a minor to come visit?), Pitch made sure to make mental notes to remember the way that road kill on the side of the road looked. Oh, and that garbage can with that pasta leaking from the top- it looked like entrails. Good inspiration for a horror novel.
He found his group already seated at a large, semi-circular booth in the far back corner. Sighing, he mentally prepared himself for the torture he was about to endure.
Walking over to the table, Pitch was ready when he heard Nick's booming voice shouting to him. He was well within earshot; there was no need to yell… Looking at the bearded man, he was almost about to make a snarky comment that he wouldn't find rude because he's too thick headed when his eyes traveled to the smaller form beside him.
A boy. With… Gorgeous white hair… And… Pitch swallowed as those wide blue eyes shifted to him. Staring straight into those deep pools of ice blue, Pitch felt his throat go dry. Oh… Oh… Such… pretty eyes… It seemed as though neither of them could look away from the other. He was just… so… Wow…
Swallowing again, Pitch forced himself to tear his gaze away, choosing instead to look at the boy's dark blue hoodie. Nick was laughing brightly, patting the boy on the shoulder audibly and announcing, "Jack, this is Pitch! An old friend and a wonderful chess partner!" Giving the boy a gentle shove, Nick said, "Don't be put off by how quiet he vill be, Jack! Pitch, this is Jack!"
Glancing back up at the boy's face- his jaw was perfectly square and his lips were thin- Pitch mumbled a quiet, "Hullo, Jack…" He looked at his neck instead of his face now. He wouldn't be able to think straight if he looked at those eyes again. He could plainly see the way Jack was staring at him- leave it to Nick to NOT mention that he had grey skin. Poor kid was probably thinking they had brought in an alien.
"Hi…" Jack said meekly. Pitch shivered in his own skin at the soft rasp of his deep voice. Leave it to him to get hot listening to a teenager talk… His lack of social experience probably added up to that. Not one serious romantic relationship in ten years and even the softest whisper of sexual attraction would make him a drooling mess.
Ed was laughing about something before he said, "Scary guy, in't he Jack? You know, he writes horror books. How many you got out again?"
Clenching his fists and unclenching them again, Pitch replied, "Forty two…" Jack's big blues blinked at that- had that impressed him? Pitch hoped so.
Sitting with the group, Pitch tried his absolute hardest not to stare at the vision of beauty before him and act normal. The conversations were mostly jokes and utter nonsense, but occasionally there would be a tiny speck of usefulness to them. Pitch learned that Jack's full name was Jackson Overland Frost because Nick had blurted it out. He liked that name. It flowed together almost as beautifully as the boy himself did.
Pitch had to resist the urge to moan when the boy whimpered about being hungry. He could listen to that voice for ages. In fact, that was really all he was doing. He let his eyes fall shut as he spoke- intent on just listening to the slow, soft ways his voice rose and fell when he talked. Mmm… Yes Jack… Keep talking…
Food arrived a short time later, and Jack looked all too eager to just dig right in. He picked up a chicken wing, ready to eat the entire thing, bones and all, when his eyes met Pitch's once more. Pitch gave him a small smile and Jack immediately set the food back down. His cheeks were flushed, and Pitch couldn't help but blush right along with him. "Sorry," he whispered, adjusting how he was sitting, "Guess I forgot my manners…"
Offering Jack another smile (unusual for the normally dark and gloomy man), Pitch said gently, "It's alright… No harm done…" Blinking again, Jack smiled a little and glanced nervously back and forth at his table mates. Pitch could see the way his cheeks darkened further.
"Well, I don' know about you guys, but I've got a need for some beer," Ed said at last, "Anyone wanna join me?"
Everyone except for Pitch agreed. (And Jack, simply because he couldn't have any.) The two were left alone at the table- Pitch couldn't have asked for a better opportunity.
Smiling at the teenager, he said, "Sorry if I make you nervous…" Jack looked at him, eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes and back again as he spoke, "I usually have that effect on people… Even grown adults…"
Jack returned his smile, nearly made Pitch's heart melt, and chuckled breathlessly. "It's okay," he said, "It's just weird meeting so many new people so fast… You know?" Pitch smiled at him. "And most of them are really loud… I'm not used to it…"
Now laughing lightly, Pitch said, "Well you had better get used to it. The people you're surrounded by are some of the loudest I know."
"Well, Sandy seems quieter…" Jack said, poking at his food absently, dragging his eyes down to watch his fork. Pitch eyed him as he continued doing anything but look at him.
Looking at him, he finally said, "I do make you nervous…" Jack looked up, surprise written all over his face.
"No!" Jack quickly said, lifting a hand. Pitch smirked at him and he blushed. "Well, okay, maybe a little… It's not you, it's just… I'm not used to so many people… Kinda been on my own a while, you know?"
Pitch nodded, watching as the group of friends at the bar made a few jokes with the bartender. "Yes, Aster told me…" Jack looked confused. "Ed," Pitch said. Jack nodded and smiled, quickly understanding who they were talking about.
Poking at his food again, Jack whispered, "So… you're a writer?"
"Mmhmm," Pitch replied, allowing himself the chance to indulge in the way Jack looked with his big blue eyes and his messy white hair.
"Do you only write horror?" Jack asked, "Have you ever written anything different?"
"Usually I only have inspiration for dark books…" Pitch said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his knuckles, "I've never had any experiences to inspire anything else…" Now he decided a little flirting couldn't hurt. Sliding one hand down to the table, tracing it along the surface toward Jack's own hand, Pitch whispered, "No long time friendships to inspire a simple story… No… children to…" he touched the tips of his fingers to Jack's- the boy's eyes were wide, unblinking, and his cheeks were beginning to darken, "Inspire a cute little fairytale… No…" he drew circles on the back of Jack's hand with his fingers as he whispered the rest of his words, "Long term… romances to… draw upon for… a trashy little romance… novel…" Now his fingers were locked with Jack's, his thumb stroking the back of his hand slowly. The boy's beautiful eyes were staring straight into Pitch's. He could not blink- the connection would be broken. Pitch could hear how fast his breathing was and he could plainly see the pink hue his cheeks had taken on.
'Maybe I'm not as bad at flirting as I thought,' Pitch mused, smiling at the teenage boy. If the others weren't coming back he would have continued their moment forever. But, as fate would have it, they were coming back. And that meant Pitch couldn't keep feeling up Nick's new house guest.
When the others came back Pitch couldn't help but smile when he noticed the way Jack shoved both his hands down to his lap and kept his gaze glued on the table. The addition of his bright pink cheeks and overall nervous fidgetiness made the sight the most adorable thing Pitch had seen. He was so innocent.
Getting up when it was time to leave, Pitch gave Jack a little bow and the others a small wave before heading off. Of course, he didn't exactly head off... He kind of hid around the corner to watch Jack as he left. (Creepy enough?)
He watched the boy's ass as he walked away. It looked best when he was standing still. When he was walking Pitch couldn't gaze at the curves of it. He watched as he hopped into Nick's enormous red car more than a little miffed. He wanted that boy to be climbing into his own car, eager to spend a night in bed with him. Licking his lips, Pitch determined that he had some fantastic inspiration for another story. A man being killed by his lover, that lover being a skinny boy with big blue eyes.
That was what he worked on when he returned home. Writing about how his beautiful doll ripped out his heart and squished it on the front steps.
Yeesh… Pitch, what is WRONG with you? This is not how you date Pitch! NO!