well... most of him

May 2016

It all happened fast. So , so fast.

Astrid was eating ice cream outside the diner with her friends, minus Hiccup. The taste of chocolate and pistachio was sweet on her tongue, her hair fluttering in the breeze, the afternoon sun soft on her shoulders. It was so perfect.

Then, Hiccup shot from the street like a bullet, his head darting around like a frightened rabbit. His eyes locked with hers, and she found inevitable fear in them. She called his name, but he either didn’t hear, or didn’t listen.

A flash of black darted across the road, and he dived after it, and- and-

She remembers her ice cream falling from her hands. She remembers her stomach heaving the rest of it onto the pavement, and idly thinking ‘what a waste’ . She remembers her voice screaming down the phone, for someone anyone help us there’s a fire my friend’s in fire please help-

Now she’s silent, her throat aching too much to speak. In fact, so does everything. The hospital chairs aren’t doing her back -still sprained from gymnastics last week- any favours. Her friends sitting around her don’t speak either.

She looks idly at the clock on the wall. It’s half two in the morning, and she’d ordinarily be fast asleep in her cosy bed, with the sky-blue bedsheets and the soft toy lamb no one but knows she sleeps with, no one but H-

Hiccup. He’s everywhere, and has been since the ambulance lifted his lifeless body onto a stretcher. His eyes stare back at her from the leafy-green plants in the waiting room. His soft, auburn hair has been stolen by the kind receptionist who lets them linger well after hours. His smile stays in the crescent moon, wide and bright, hopelessly out of reach in the sky.

It might be coincidence, or it might be the raging terror that -if something Bad happens- she will forget him.

Although, a part of her knows it would be impossible to: Hiccup’s desperate cries for Toothless, the wailing of the ambulance in her ears, her nostrils filled with the lingering scent of what she could only call rotting flesh.

She’s taking in deep breaths of the disinfectant smell and listening to a baby wailing on its mother’s knee -half wishing she could join it- when a nurse comes in and tells them half of Hiccup’s left leg is gone.

Swallowing the immense shock building in her, Astrid shakes the twins awake to tell them. They exchange a glance, and rub their eyes awake.

“Your friend Hiccup’s leg was amputated below the knee. The fire from the tanker truck burned his flesh,” the nurse explains.

The twins’ mouths fall open. Fishlegs lets out a stunned cry. Snotlout whispers “holy shit ” under his breath.

“He could’ve died,” the doctor informs them. “He’s lucky to have escaped with an amputation.”

Lucky? Astrid almost laughs in the nurse’s face right then and there, but decides against it. He’s just doing his job. She thanks the nurse for telling them, and he leaves. It’s only when he’s gone that she dares to cry: soft, quivering sobs that shake her shoulders.

Snotlout lets out a deep huff of air. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.” Astrid’s voice is broken and sticky in her throat.

“Figures though, huh? He’s bad at everything, even dying,” Snotlout says, and suddenly every scrap of pent up rage rushes into Astrid’s right arm, syphoned by the clenching of her fist, and she punches him in the face.

He squeals, falling back on the floor with the grace of a pig. “The hell was that for?” He yells, clutching his jaw.

“You.” She has to restrain from kicking him. Even in her half-blind fit of anger, she can keep her cool enough not to hit a downed opponent. “Being an insensitive, dickwad -”

He raises his hands beside his head. “Ok, I’m sorry-”

“If you were, you wouldn’t say something like that-”

“Jeez, I said I was sorry-”

“Aww, I’m sowwy,” Astrid mocks, her hands firmly on her hips. “Did I hurt widdle baby’s feelings? Well your cousin’s just lost his leg, so I suggest you suck a dick and get over it!”

Snotlout gets to his feet, grumbling. She scoffs at his immaturity, but is surprised to look a little deeper into his sky-blue eyes (irritatingly, the same shade as her’s) and finds remorse -and sorrow , she finds- in the spikes of dark blue.

“Just get out of here,” Astrid says, the energy to be angry gone from her bones. She sags back onto the hospital waiting chair, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders and curls up to sleep.

When she next wakes, it’s to the sun in her eyes and voices arguing. Typical . She rolls her eyes. Can’t today start a little better?

Groggily, she drags her aching bones up from the hospital chair, and turns around. The others have gone, collected by their parents. Undoubtedly so. Or did Snotlout actually heed her warning and get out of here? She gives the waiting room a cursory glance around; less empty than last night, but void of her friends.

Good. She doesn’t want to talk to them either.

Briefly, she wonders where her aunt and uncle are. Have they forgotten her? They can’t have done.

Then, she notices the basket on the table, tied in a bow with her favourite blue hair ribbon. There’s a basket of grapes, a flask of Horchata , judging by the smell, pupusas wrapped in foil, a bar of chocolate (dairy milk. Hiccup’s favourite) and a note sellotaped to the top.

Hi honey,

I’m so sorry this is so last minute, but we’ve brought a few things for Hiccup when he wakes up. There’s enough pupusas left for you to have one. Your uncle’s topped up your bank account so you can buy a few things at the cafe downtown. I’m sorry we can’t come for you, something’s come up with your grandmother and we have to be there (she’s fine, don’t worry xx).

Head up sweetie. Things will be fine. I love you, God bless.

Tia <3

With an unexpected smile on her face, she walks off the soreness in her body as she finds the sources of the argument. She quickly realises it’s Valka and Stoick in the corridor near his room, and she ducks behind the wall to listen.

“-still can’t believe you didn’t call me, and I had to hear from Gobber-”

“What was I supposed to do? In case you forgot,” there is bitterness in Stoick’s thundering voice, “you left this family - ”

“Hiccup is still my son.”

Valka’s shown up overnight, in a hurry from the looks of her unkempt hair.

“You sure as hell don’t act like it,” Stoick shouts, muttering something that sounds a lot like ‘ungrateful bitch’ .

“Really then? Tell me what happened,” Valka challenges him.

Stoick scoffs, throwing his hands up, and he’s dangerously close to hitting her. Astrid wonders for a moment, if it’ll actually happen, that physicality will be exchanged when loud words are no longer enough to satisfy the pain inside them both.

“You pissed right out of my life, leaving me with a difficult-” Astrid’s hands coil into fists at her sides “-two year old to raise, all while you have a lovely time with your new wife and her son.”

“I love Rani,” she says, her voice trembling.

“You loved me,” he roars back, and Astrid has to fight the urge to clap her hands over her ears. “And you threw it away for some flying rat. ”

“You know it wasn’t just about the sugar glider -” she says pointedly, like him getting her wretched pet’s name wrong was more important than their son’s life and wellbeing, and Astrid snaps for the second time that day.

“ Stop it! ” Astrid screams, not bothering to hide behind the wall, not bothering to stop herself from screaming. “You’re both grown adults, and you’re fighting over a ten year old divorce when your son’s lost his leg ?”

The parents look at her, a mixture of shock from Valka, rage from Stoick, but Astrid doesn’t bend away. They deserve to feel guilty.

Finally, Stoick opens his mouth to speak, but a Gobber stops him, placing his prosthetic arm firmly in between her and Stoick.

“She’s right, you know. The doctors are saying Hiccup’ll wake any minute now. Valka, you go get him something to drink if he’s able. He likes apple juice, but cool water will do. Stoick, I packed him an overnight bag, it’ll be in the car.” They are dismissed without words, scurrying off in opposite directions under Gobber’s command.

Astrid stares in something akin to surprise. She’s known him since Hiccup took her to the cafe in Berk: a sensible presence in Hiccup’s life. But she got the impression he generally let him work in the cafe shop, and sent him on his way without caring what happened when he went home. “You dealt with that fast.”

“Eh, I’m used to dealing with their kind,” he replies.

“Their kind?”

Gobber chuckles, grimacing. “Stubborn. Fiercely hot headed.” He pauses, eyeing her up in a curious way of sorts, as if judging her. Astrid’s first thought is to cringe away from the feiling, but there is no unkindness in his eyes. He leans in and whispers “between you and me, lassie, they feel fiercely. But they let their emotions get in the way of important things.” Astrid thinks, shame painting her cheeks red, that Hiccup’s parents aren’t the only ones who think with their heart over their head.

“I’m not saying that’s just. I’m saying that’s how they are. Now don’t you go making the same mistake,” he warns. Then, his face brightens, and he gives her a cheekily knowing grin. “Hiccup really likes you, you know.”

“What? We’re just friends!” Astrid can feel her cheeks practically burning.

Gobber raises his hands in surrender. “Never said you weren’t,” he says jovially. He leads her down the corridor and opens the door. “Now get in there and help your friend.”

Her heart picks up as the door swings away to reveal-

Hiccup looks dying. An oxygen mask covers his face, and more IV drips than most injuries feed into his skinny arms. His face is still and expressionless.

Worst of all, where two thin legs would be, outlined by the thin hospital blanket, there is one and a half. His left leg drops off into thin air, horrifyingly abrupt.

She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. The sight is beyond horrible.

Gobber hands her a whiteboard, telling her to give it to him when he wakes, and respectfully leaves the room.

Tears begin to run down her face. She curses it, knowing that -if Hiccup sees her face, crumpling and vulnerable - he’ll know something is wrong, and then she’ll have to tell her.

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she sobers up, and rests a hand on his forearm. He always said he likes it when he touches his skin. It never felt invasive to him the way it does with most people.

It seems like forever she’s frozen in that position before Hiccup’s face twitches, gasping and coughing, clawing pathetically at his oxygen mask. Her heart kicks her over, and she suddenly feels out of her depth, like she was tossed into a deep, bottomless ocean.

“Hello? Hello! ” She repeats, louder this time. No one comes, and Hiccup is still panicking. She lays her hand back on his forearm, gently stroking the soft skin.

“Sshh, sshh,” she whispers softly in his ear. “You’re safe. You’re safe. I’m here, I won’t hurt you. You’re safe.” She repeats the words, over and over, like a chant with the power to bring him back to life. Slowly, he calms down, his lungs stop trying to expel themselves out of his body, and-

At last, he settles. Registering the touch, he flinches, before he looks up at her with those piercingly green eyes she missed so much, and recognition floods them.

“Hey, Hiccup.” Astrid beams.

It’s hard to tell beneath the mask, but he might’ve smiled.