Often at times more so than others, Jack's mother would take him by the arm and look deep into his eyes and say, "You have your dad's eyes. They are dark thunderclouds." She would pull him down to her height and kiss him on the forehead, patting his cheek as he pulled away.
When Jack is at his lowest hours, he wishes instead of pulling away he could've held his mom and responded with, "Yes. And I have your nose." He would then have leaned down and kissed her hard on the cheek, until he was sure that she wouldn't leave him.
Yes. That would have been nice.
When Jack walks home from the library after a late shift, he sees Cookie and reminds himself that he still needs to put up a fight. She enjoys a good fight. He plays defense until he knows he's going to lose. But it doesn't matter. It's just routine for them. There's no hate, there's no hard feelings even after what he's done. It's just a fight.
But when Jack gets a little too cold, he becomes afraid.
It's not as harsh of a consequence from the Final Battle. Cookie spent nights overthinking what happened, replaying the scene in her head. Jack being cold. It could be the least of her worries. What Jack got out of the Final Battle was what could happen to him. Cookie did not mess around when you messed with her family.
Jack was afraid of being frozen again.
And he didn't need to have a reason to. It's not like anybody would be waiting for him if he did get out. No open arms. No hugs. No hellos. His dad doesn't care, and he didn't have to. His son got what he deserved. It was bound to happen one day or another. When Jack thinks of his dad, he thinks of how he left him. How he sided with the heroes. How he purposely told Cookie to freeze him instead of finding another option. How he didn't even trust his own son when he came back from the institution. Jack had all the reasons to be angry, and every now and then he catches himself holding his hands in fists. His fingernails always seem to find home in his palms. And he bleeds. One more time for good luck.
The standards he holds to himself is to not get too cold and to not get too angry. If he plays by the rules he satisfies both parties. But he can't refrain from thinking too much about what happened. If Rain hadn't ambushed him with Corpirate. If his dad even loved him just a little. If Jeremy never showed his face in Achievement City. If his mom never died. His eyes grow murky and dark, the thunderclouds raging within. He feels something grow dark and it's uncontrollable.
He takes a few deep breaths and the thunderclouds are gone.
It's pathetic when he uses his powers to create an illusion of his mother. He talks to her until early morning. Until he passes out from staying up too late. But it's all fake. It is an illusion. It is him just fooling himself. She smiles at him and gives him advice, telling him right from wrong. But it's no use. It's still fake; the words from her mouth tumble out of Jack's mind, controlling what she says. It's no use. Jack doesn't know right from wrong.
In special occasions where Cookie would invite Jack to spend the night at the heroes' house, he would kindly decline until she forced him by dragging him all the way there. He would stand awkwardly at the doorway as the heroes would stare him down. They can forgive, but they can never forget. His dad hugs him and smiles. Jack knows better.
They did the justice of not giving Jack his own room. He wasn't trusted enough for that. His old one was still there, but just a shell of what happened. No one bothered to clean up the broken window's glass shards on the floor when he left that one night. Cookie offers to sleep with him in the living room; him on one couch, her on the other. It's 3:45 AM and Jack finally decides to close his eyes. Hero and Villain lungs fill with air.
It is a cold morning today.
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Randomshort stories that don't correlate surrounding a boy with a crow mask who has strayed far from his path.
