Fall in the suburbs of our quaint little town was as brisk and to the point as the people were. The crisp afternoon air bit the skin as the tree leaves began to change color and the nights slowly grew longer. Stores, diners, and coffee shops were packed with people looking to get their pumpkin spice fix. Halloween stores were bustling with customers and families were setting up their decorations for the coming holiday. The cloaked figures of the grim reaper and numerous fictional psychopaths seemed to stand at attention on every street corner or store window. Media and society's versions of the Boogeyman. I noticed that while many children in other towns may be frightened by this, the ones here have met the real Pitch Black. They had faced their fears and won. Halloween decorations were nothing to them now. On the other hand, these decorations only vaguely reminded me of the supernatural being currently residing at my home on what appeared to be a part time basis.

During one particular evening, I was bringing Artemis home from a walk when I noticed my bedroom curtain shift and I recognized the shape of Pitch leaning against my window. Apparently Artemis noticed him too, because she pulled from my grasp and darted through her doggy door, her purple leash sliding in behind her. I called after the canine, to no avail, and scrambled to get my keys to unlock the front door. After fighting with the lock for a few moments, I managed to push my way into the house and close the door behind me as quickly as possible. My concern was that Artemis would end up mauling Pitch without me being there to stop her. I sprinted up the stairs and through my bedroom door, only to find Artemis on her back and rolling from side to side. Her tongue lolled out of her head and she wagged her fluffy tail as a set of gray hands scratched her belly. I stopped dead in the doorway, amazed at the sight of the Boogeyman showing affection to another living being. He was smiling as he ruffled Artemis's fur, softly telling her what a good dog she was, and my dog seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. "Artemis..." I finally puffed out, exhausted from the mini chase. Unfortunately, this startled my dog, and in an instant she rolled to her paws and hastily paced around my room. I moved toward Atremis to grab her and try to settle her down before she destroyed the house, but she simply darted around me, rushing toward the door and accidentally running into my desk. "Artemis, no!" I called out, but it was too late. Her tail slapped against the top of the desk and the picture frames I had positioned there fell.

I heard the distinct sound of glass shattering, and I breathed out quietly, taking note of which picture had fallen. It had been the one from my junior prom with Jason. The photo had been taken two weeks before we had broken up. I lifted it from the ground and inspected the damage. "Is that your betrothed?" Pitch asked, appearing over my shoulder and gazing at the photograph. I shook my head, placing the broken frame back on the desk and sighing in frustration. "No. He's my ex-boyfriend. He left me for someone else." I explained. Pitch's expression shifted. "He left you for someone else?" He appeared confused. "Yes, that blonde girl that you scared at the mall. Priscilla," I explained. "But, why?" He asked. "I honestly don't know. I guess because she's prettier, funnier, thinner..." I rambled, walking over to look outside at the moon rising in the sky.

A hand lightly rested on my shoulder, hesitant in its movements, and I turned my head in surprise. "Anara, you forget I have visited all children on this planet for millennia, knowing their fears and dreams, seeing into their souls. I paid a visit to that particular deviant one evening after we discussed her treatment of you. Please, believe me when I say that this Priscilla girl is nowhere near as wonderful as she pretends she is. I would know, my dear. She is flawed and insecure, jealous of you, in fact." He admitted with a tone that exuded seriousness. "Why would she be jealous of me?" I scoffed in disbelief. Pitch's long fingers tightened on my shoulder, and he stepped even closer to me. It took all my concentration to focus on his words rather than the alluring scent of the man before me. Something sultry and smokey, like burning embers and spices all mixed together. I couldn't help but take a deep breath, the smell filling my lungs. "Because you are everything she wishes she could be. You say that Priscilla is funny and beautiful and thin, but a woman's size is not what makes her beautiful. You need not concern yourself with her. You are absolutely stunning. You are prettier and more intelligent than she could ever hope to be, all of which I know for a fact." He murmured softly, his eyes narrowed and a small smirk on his slender face. I swallowed thickly, trying to hide the way his close proximity was able to affect me. "You're strangely affectionate today, but thank you..." I remarked, changing the subject to bring the characteristic to his attention.

Pitch chuckled quietly. "Must be the autumn season...It makes me act unusual..." He trailed off, winking at me. I stepped back, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. "How so?" I asked. Pitch's nose scrunched as if in disdain. "I am...nicer...I suppose," He answered. I smirked, noticing the disgust in his tone. "Why?" I quizzed him. Pitch brushed his long fingers down his dark jacket, getting rid of the dust that covered his clothing from Artemis' rolling against him. "I believe it is caused by the upcoming holiday," He explained. Realization clicked in my brain. "You mean Halloween?" I wanted to clarify. Pitch nodded, "That would be the one. Children are especially susceptible to fear around this time. Their dreams are full of all sorts of evil creatures and malicious beings that cause death and destruction. Which of course makes my job easier, since I have no need for nightmare sand." He continued. "Huh... interesting..." I trailed off, satisfied with his explanation, and began patting the blanket next to me as an offer for him to sit down as well. The window seat was not exactly comfortable to rest for long periods of time. In fact, the cushions would need to be re-stuffed soon.

The tall man tilted his head in observation, his expression shifting into a more skeptical one. I smirked, "Are you afraid that I may bite you, Pitch Black?" I inquired jokingly. Pitch slinked toward me, accepting my offer and placing himself beside me. "Not at all, my dear..." He murmured, his eyes focused intently on my face. My pulse quickened under his intense gaze. "Are you frightened?" The question was turned on me. Shaking my head, I leaned even closer to the man. "I used to be, but not anymore." I answered, watching his smirk widen. His reaction took me off guard. "Good." The singular word seemed to drip from Pitch's tongue, causing me to shiver involuntarily. "Why is that good?" I forced myself to ask the question while meeting his eyes evenly. We were frozen in that moment while I waited for his response.

Tension built for what seemed like forever, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. When the words finally came, they were slow and deliberate. "Because I'm not sure I want you to be afraid of me..." He admitted. Breathing deeply, I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. I didn't quite know what to say to that. What do you say when the Nightmare King discloses the fact that he does not want you to fear him as you originally believed? And what did that mean for our original deal? There were so many questions spinning in my mind, but Pitch Black was a mysterious man. There would be time to ask such questions. For now, it was best to settle on the words he had already spoken. Giving him a little smile, I nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, I have a new proposition for you." I told him. Pitch straightened up, staring at me with interest. "Whatever could that be, dear Anara?" He prodded. I held out my hand to him, "Let's be friends. Not allies, or mutual beneficiaries of a shady deal, but real friends." I offered, bringing the idea I had been thinking for the past couple weeks to light.

Pitch suddenly appeared as though he had been smacked across the face, or punched by the Tooth Fairy once again. "Friends? You want to be friends...with me?" He paused in the middle of his sentence, as if he couldn't believe what I had told him. I shook my head in affirmative. "Why? What do you want from me?" His voice held a bitter note at the end of his question. I raised an eyebrow at the man. "I don't want anything from you Pitch, truly. I mean, we can keep our previous arrangement and all, if you want. I know you are the big bad boogeyman and everything, but I honestly don't care about that anymore. It used to bother me, I won't lie about that, but now I hardly think about it. You told me that I intrigue you, and honestly...you intrigue me too...More than that though, I just want to know who you are." I confessed, most of the words tumbling from my lips without me being able to stop them. I was tempted to cover my mouth when I finished, but I figured that may worsen the situation. It was true what I said, but perhaps it was unwise to be that open about my feelings. Pitch tilted his head again, his two toned eyes even wider than before, mouth open in what seemed to be shock. I had no idea if this was a good or bad thing.

After another few heart wrenching seconds, the Boogeyman closed his mouth and cleared this throat. "You can't possibly mean that," He whispered. Rolling my eyes, I scooted even closer. "I'm being serious. I mean it. Have I lied to you at any point since we started whatever this is?" I asked him. He cast his eyes down at the floor, and then looked back up at me and shook his head, "No." "And I'm not lying now. If you don't want to be friends, then just tell me that. But don't cast me aside just because you doubt my words are true. I believe in you, Pitch. Now it's time for you to try and believe in me." I pressed adamantly. Pitch stared at me incredulously for a few more moments, before he finally grasped my hand and shook it. "Well, if you insist. I suppose we are friends then, Anara Rose." I smiled then, a genuine smile, and this time Pitch returned it. His skin was warmer to the touch than before, but his hand was soft and encompassed mine almost completely. I tried to hide my blush as I realized I enjoyed it, the feeling of our hands clasped together. But I also knew that if I held onto him any longer, this could get even more awkward.

Carefully letting go of the man's hand, I turned and reached for the remote to my tv. "Now that that is settled, would you like to watch a movie with me?" I asked, gesturing at the television. Pitch leaned away again, nodding his acceptance. Turning the television on, I flipped through the channels, settling on yet another horror film. Listening to the screeching of a woman on the screen, I relaxed against a nearby pillow, and Pitch cautiously seemed to follow suit. With another exchange of glances, the Nightmare King and I settled into our positions, the new development of our relationship fresh in our minds.

Pitch POV

The past few weeks with Anara Rose had surprised Pitch Black in more ways than he could have foreseen when he began his arrangement with the young woman. He did not expect the girl to tolerate his presence this long, not without her expressing some sort of negativity or hatred toward him. After all, she was also allied with the Guardians. Sooner or later they would be filling her head with ideas that would turn her against him, somehow they would foil the Nightmare King's plot without even knowing about it. That's what they always did, anyway. But so far nothing of the sort had transpired.

Another extremely complicated matter that Pitch contemplated was his newfound friendship with the girl. In their time together, he had learned a lot about the spunky young woman. He spent long periods of time simply watching her, noticing the way she laughed at her own cheesy jokes, or how her skin flushed pink when she was complimented even in the slightest. How she tapped her long fingernails on her desk or a book when she was anxious, or twirled her long silken hair around her finger when she was concentrating hard on something. Pitch spent hours speaking to the girl about random things. She told him about her awful classmates and her best friend. He listened to her complain about the people who tested her patience, and the ones who made her smile. But Pitch noticed there was one thing she never spoke of. Or, to be more accurate, a particular person Anara never spoke of. The boy in the picture frame on top of her desk.

Pitch had noticed the photograph one afternoon while Anara was away, paying no mind to it until he saw how the girl looked. She was clutching the shoulders of a reasonably attractive young man, her smile so wide she had creases near her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back away from her face and off of her shoulders, revealing a long, graceful neck. She was clothed in a pale pink gown made of shimmering fabric, likely tulle or some material like it. The dress was long and layered, accentuating her waist, while the v-neck bodice and off the shoulder sleeves emphasized her bust. She was radiant and appeared so much happier than she was now. Pitch swallowed and set the photo down, trying to think of something other than her obvious beauty. Still, he wondered who that male was, and why Anara had been so happy with him.

The Boogeyman could not grasp why he was suddenly so fascinated by a simple mortal, why Anara had such an effect on him. He also asked himself how those observations and conversations had become so relevant and important to him, when they had nothing to do with the deal at all. He was Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, the Boogeyman! And she was just a young woman from a small town, a mortal that was in way over her head, at his hands. So what did all of this matter? He knew himself to be manipulative and smooth talking when it came to his own interests. However, there was still a part of him that could be honest if he wished to be, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to attempt to manipulate the girl. One reason being, she was highly intelligent and called him out on it. The other reason concerning a more personal agenda; Pitch felt oddly connected to Anara, and it was abundantly clear that this bond strengthened the more time they spent together. The Nightmare King was growing more annoyed with each passing day, feeling his own unease at why he was acting so strange. As each night passed, he could tell that he wanted to fulfill his oath to her. He promised to protect her, and he would.

As if to spite him, fate seemed happy to play another card against his original plot, throwing a curveball sure to set him on a path to self destruction. In a quiet moment between the pair, Anara had confessed that she desired Pitch's friendship of all things. And in the second, Pitch realized he desired her's too. He wanted to give a name to whatever was going on between them, this unlikely bond. But the last time he had wanted to be friends with someone, when he had wanted to persuade Jack Frost to be his ally, he had been weakened nearly beyond repair. How could he trust this young woman not to do the same? But Anara was persistent, describing how she believed in him and pointed out how she had always been honest with the spirit, no matter what he had asked. When Pitch looked into the soft blue eyes staring at him with such certainty, he couldn't bring himself to refuse her, even though he desperately wanted to. He realized that something had changed within her, and somehow, something had changed in him too. Pitch Black was starting to feel emotion again. And the thought of that happening truly disturbed him.