Last Winter [JackFrostxReader] Pt.12

The day had turned around abruptly, and it was as bright and sunny as any other day with the only exception of the streets, lawns, and house covered in snow. By the warmth of the sun and how much it was shining as it rose directly above you, the snow would hardly last more than a week, and maybe even less than that.

But, of course, that was the least of your worries at the moment. With your mother and her boyfriend kicking you out of the house, more-or-less, and with Jack’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, the freezing winds and squishy floors were, the weather was the least of your problems.

Jack’s face was ecstatic from the moment you had left the front lawn of your home. Seconds after that, he had dropped down beside you from the air and very carefully had wrapped his arm around you with the excuse of keeping you warm, which was absolutely absurd as you both knew that was impossible for him to do.

There was only two reasons why you had allowed such familiarity on his part; one, you were curious to know if you were still able to touch him, and two, part of you wanted to feel his presence and not only see it. Then came the third one; it was easier to deal with than to deal with the weird stares you would get for pushing against thin air.

You were already getting some from the few people you passed by, most likely they were thinking you were up to know good because your face was that of discomfort and embarrassment. But having Jack Frost pressed to your side did that to people!

Still, you didn’t have the heart to push him away or give him a snappish remark for his hands roaming your neck. He was happy, and not only because you left him to hug you, but because physical contact with the winter spirit meant you believed in him. That alone was causing your head to ache and to question everything that didn’t supposedly exist.

“I can’t feel my right side, Jack.” You commented, as he has pressed more into your than before. Once in a while he would blow cold wind in your ear causing you to jump and try to move away, but he would just put more pressure in his arm to keep you next to him.

“I swear, if you blow air on me one more time—”he leaned down, his lips next to your ear, and blew softly. “Gah!—Stop that right now!”

Taking that moment where the streets were completely empty, you shoved him away and made a run to the other side of the street. Jack was already waiting there, open armed, as you arrived. He was pushing it, you thought as you pushed passed him, and he shouldn’t be so clingy only because he could touch you now.

Jack laughed as he hooked his staff on the color of your jacket and pulled you towards him with a grin. Having you hurt arms inside the jacket made it easy for Jack to take hold of the free arm and tie it to the staff, frost forming on it shortly after.

“That way you can’t get away,” he said with a smirk, and you glared at him.

“Untie it,” you ordered, “It’s going to look weird.”

He did as he was told, but was once again pressed to your side, the one with the hurt arm so you would have to work harder to push him away. You were glad the sun was rising and not setting because that would have meant you would be a walking popsicle by the time you arrive at your destination, and one walking popsicle was enough.

“Where are we going?”

“A place you will surely despise . . . well the second place.” You answered having completely given up the idea of getting free of his grasp and blaming the cold winds for your face being tomato red. “The second place would be where I get my testing supplies, but I order those online.”

Having said that, Jack reached for the silver dagger you had pocketed before leaving the house, having actually returned for it after having left the house.

“J-B . . .?” there was an odd tone to his voice. Worried? Curious? Confusion? You weren’t sure what it was you heard when he spoke. “How long have you known Jaime?”

“Depend.” You said cautiously, “How long have you known him?”

“Since he was ten,” Jack answered, dropping the dagger into your right hand and you placed in inside your jacket pocket. “He was the first person to believe in me . . . I met you a year after—you were the only person that refused to believe in me. You also said you hated me, and went out of your way to show just how much.”

You remembered, or course you remembered. It was when you were sick in bed with a fever, and it was in that night he had written in your book. The memory made you wonder if he would take revenge because of your eight-year-old self; was the snow on the floor not torture enough? How about your hurt arm and tangled mind, as that not revenge enough?

“Hey, why aren’t you saying anything? I was sure you’d deny it by saying it was related to research or something.” He had stopped you from walking, pushing on your cheek slightly until you turned to look at him.

Your heart was beating faster, face feeling hot regardless of the wind temperature or the fact Jack had yet to remove his hand. Your eyes, you were sure of it, were glaring at Jack for making you remember something and finally understanding that had not been the way to behave towards him, but also, it didn’t stop you from thinking that the way your heart was irregularly beating was part of his plan for revenge.

But, when he had forced you to look at him, his hand touching your cheek softly, and those large, bright, blue eyes looking down at you, you saw that this person was not remotely thinking of revenge. He didn’t even look the type to even think of hurting someone out of spite, and especially for something done when they were a child. Though, you had made him angry before trying to dissect him and calling him your lab rat which was uncalled for.

“I’m sorry.” You blurred out, slapping his hand away and walking quickly forward to leave him behind. He flew towards you, blocking your path as you refused to lift your face to him.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry for?” he asked with a chuckle.

“For when I was a kid.” You kept moving your head from side to side as he kept leaning down to look at you. “I-I . . . I don’t hate you!”

Jack, by that time, had rested his staff on his shoulder and had lifted you face to look up at him. His face was gleaming with a bright smile, his eyes sparkling and reflecting your bright red profile with soft eyes. You had never seen that person before; not in your mirror or any past photographs.

The person you saw in Jack’s eyes looked lost, confused, terrified, and absolutely love struck.

“I don’t hate you . . .”

“I know.” was all he responded with.