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"Ruff, seriously, I'd rather pitch myself off the roof than go to our high school reunion." Astrid said, for what was probably the eighth time in as many minutes. An older, suit wearing man glared at her as he walked past (a reaction Astrid was unfortunately used to seeing) and Astrid had to tamp down on the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him, a clear sign said been spending too much time with the twins.
Veronica Thornton, or Ruffnut as she was affectionately (ish?) known, sighed down the phone line with all the dramatist of someone who'd just been told their dog had been hit with a car. "I can't be not, single, and mysterious on my own!” she lamented, voice loud enough that Astrid winced and pulled the phone away from her ear (maybe the old fucker in the suit had reason to glare at her). "I need my wing woman!"
"Single? What happened to Throk?”
"He wanted to focus on his career." Astrid could see exactly the expression ruff was pulling in her mind, eyebrows drawn together as Sha flipped the dark plains of her hair over her shoulder. "Regardless of him, you're coming to this reunion."
"Tuff is single, and weird, which is basically just mysterious. Can't you just go with him?" Astrid asked, fully aware she was grasping at straws. Antonio was Ruff’s brother and was also definitely not the mysterious kind of weird. Desperate times or whatever.
"He's going with snotlout. I’d like to spend as little of my night around them as absolutely possible”.
"I can agree with you there" Astrid murmured. She dodged around a group of 12-year-olds to angrily jab at the traffic button.it didn't help. Glaring at the twelve-year-olds who were now laughing at her, however, helped a great deal.
"So...." Ruff went on, voice pitching up into a singsong tone. "Just you and me then sister!"
"No." Astrid said. Again. She was losing her conviction.
Ruff picked up on it, like some kind of cursed bloodhound throwing herself back into convincing. "You don't have anything planned for that night and I know that because I checked your google calendar so don’t even try to lie, and you were just complaining last week about how the only people you talk to are me and Tuff and you just bought that new dress, and you look hot as fuck in it. What other occasion are you going to wear it for?”
"I could have a date."
"Not likely. The only places you ever go are work and the gym. You'd never date one of your co-workers and that dress is too fancy for a date with a guy you met at the gym.”
"I go other places!" Astrid retorted, suddenly indignant.
"Where are you walking right now?"
"...The gym.”
"Exactly!"
"I am not going to that reunion.”
Astrid spent the entire thirty-minute drive to her old high school telling ruff in vivid detail exactly how strongly she hated her. Unfortunately, it did not the change the fact that she was now going to her stupid high school reunion.
"Why do you even care what they all think about you?"
"I don't." Ruff replied with a shrug. “But it's fun. And excessive self-confidence is good for the soul.”
"Forcing your best friend to go with you is definitely bad for the soul."
"I'm sure my cosmic balance can cope." Ruff replied, pulling up shockingly badly into one of the few free spaces left in the carpark. Astrid could see the ugly red truck she knew belonged to Snotlout two rows over, practically glowing.
Astrid followed Ruff out of the car, shutting the door perhaps more forcefully than necessary. "You're sure we can't just ditch this and egg Snotlout’s truck? It'd be about a thousand times more fun.”
Ruff knocked their shoulders together, leaning her weight against Astrid. "Just give it a go. If you really hate it, I'll sneak us out the chem room window and we can find something to cover Snotlout’s car with.”
Astrid snorted, knocking her shoulder back against ruff. " I think you're missing the flexibility to get out of any windows, especially ones on the third floor" The dress in question was long and slinky and purple in a way that Astrid knew would give her hives the moment she put it on.
The indigent "hey!" and ensuing arguing that "actually, you would definitely be the one who couldn't make it out the windows your douchebag” carried the pair all the way to the open cafeteria doors.
The space had clearly been dressed up for the event, sheets of black-painted cardboard taped over the windows. The inside of the cafeteria was lit only by the candles placed in the centre of each red clothed table. Astrid was fairly certain that was a fire hazard. Standing guard at the front door behind a lecture (and Astrid would really like to know where the school had got that from) was Mildew. He looked, impossibly, even more withered and grumpy than Astrid remembered him,
"How is he not dead yet?' ruff hissed into her ear, clearly not quiet enough if the glare mildew shot their way was anything to go by. Astrid dug her heel into the exposed top of Ruff’s foot, hoped the message of idiot came through.
They both gave Mildew their names and their coats. He moved with a stiffness Astrid had only ever associated with the dead, like his bones were grinding against each other with every breath he took. She was honestly surprised he was still alive and kicking (she just had the sense not to say it in front of the man’s face). Grudgingly, he pointed the duo in the direction of their table. Astrid sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they’d gotten seated at the same one.
The interior of the cafeteria felt exactly how she’d expected it to from first glance. Slightly sticky floors, too short curtains trying to cover up the row of vending machines along the side wall, crowds (there were probably fifty people max in the room, but Astrid still felt like it constituted a crowd. Something about the atmosphere) of face she vaguely recognised laughing and draping themselves across each other.
“Oh, I swear to fucking God is that Snotlout at our table?” Ruff exclaimed, shoving her way through a group of washed-out businessmen (they were only twenty-eight, so in a way she was almost impressed they’d managed to become washed out already) to get a closer look, iron grip on Astrid’s wrist dragging her along for the trip.
It was.
Astrid retracted her thanks to the universe.
Sitting at one of the seats of their round six-person table, legs uncomfortably far apart, was Scott Jorgenson, affectionately known as Snotlout for reasons that Astrid frankly didn’t want to know. Egging his car sounded like a better idea with ever second.
“Where’s his keeper?” Astrid hissed at Ruff.
“Snotface!” Ruff called in greeting, voice practically dripping with disgust. “Where’s my brother?”
The other five seats at the table were empty, but there were jackets over the seats on either side of him. One of them was an obnoxious lime green, clearly Tuff’s, and if there was one thing more annoying than Snotlout it was Tuffnut and Snotlout. She dropped herself ungracefully in the seat next to the over jacket. Which left Ruff sitting opposite Snotlout. Astrid felt she probably deserved the elbow to the ribs as Ruff sat down. “Off trying to figure out if they have booze here. He’s on a strict mission to get pissed out of his mind.” His voice was warm, familiar, with none of the sneery overconfidence she remembered from the Snotlout of ten years ago.
“Who’s the other seat for?” Ruffnut asked.
Snotlout patted the other jacket, a deep red suit jacket with very narrow shoulders, almost absentmindedly. “Uh…”
He was saved from having to answer by the return of Tuff, dragging Justin ‘Fishlegs’ Ingerman behind him. Fishlegs looked only mildly disgruntled, as though this was a common occurrence. Tuff dropped into the seat with the green jacket, movement exposing the outline of an entire bottle of vodka shoved down his pants (or up his shirt? Astrid couldn’t really tell). “I reckon I should win some prize for finding this guy. He was hiding out in- Where did H go?”
Snotlout patted the jacket again. Shrugged.
“You don’t reckon he’s run off?” Tuff went on, extricating the bottle from his clothing, only to immediately bundle it up into his coat and place it under his seat.
Snotlout’s eyebrows furrowed, looking genuinely perturbed by the suggestion. “He promised he wouldn’t.”
Ruff elbowed Astrid, again, mouther ‘H?’ with a raised eyebrow.
Astrid shrugged back, tried to convey ‘how the fuck would I know that?’ with her eyes. She was glad she wasn’t the only one intrigued by who H was (Snotlout, Tuff and Fishlegs clearly weren’t if the fact that they’d already moved onto discussing boxing was any sign). She didn’t remember any H, especially not one who would have anything to do with Snotlout.
The mystery was solved with the arrival of a man she definitely did not remember from high school. Noy just because he was beautiful in a way that was a startling change from the 9-to-5 esque monotony of every other occupant of the gym, but because he carried himself with an awkward sort of confidence that was weirdly captivating to her. Like he knew people were listening to him and were going to continue to do so regardless of any protestations he made.
Astrid only pulled her attention away at an elbow to the ribs from Ruff (and she was absolutely going to wake up with a bruise. Ruff had unnaturally pointed elbows, like bony knives). She barely contained her snort of laughter at Ruff’s muttered ‘God damn’, which combined with the look on her face, was really not appropriate for the present polite(ish) company.
He was tall, in a lanky stretched out kind of way, with a mop of hair sweeping down over his eyebrows. His eyes were what got Astrid, a sharp green that felt like it was peering into her soul as they passed over her. The left leg of his pants (red to match the jacket) was cuffed just below the knee, leaving a complicated metal prosthetic on display. He slapped Tuffnut upside the head as he rounded the table, and his shirt clung to his narrow frame in a way that was quite unfairly attractive.
“Why a man that hot would willingly hang around Snotlout is beyond me.” Ruff whispered, in a voice at least marginally quieter than her usual ‘whispering’ voice. He settled into the seat in between Astrid and Snotlout with fluid ease, bumping shoulders with him in a jovial, brotherly manner. “Sorry, Cami’s trying to get me to set the back field on fire with her.”
“A throwback for the ages.” Snotlout said with a grin.
The boy, H, flicked Snotlout in the side of his head, rolling his eyes with only slightly less fondness than he’d had before.
Ruff cleared her throat far louder than was in any way needed. “So, who’s this?”
Astrid would like to know too (and by the look on Fishlegs face he wanted to know as well).
Snotlout had barely opened his mouth to reply before H elbowed him in the ribs. Astrid’s own ribs ached in sympathy pains (why she was feeling sympathetic to Snotlout was beyond her). “Hamish.” He said. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you know Snotlout… How? Exactly?” Fishlegs pressed, semi casually, but his eyes were darting between Snotlout and Hamish like he was putting together the pieces to some puzzle that Astrid couldn’t see.
“He’s my cousin.” Snotlout said, half a second before Hamish’s elbow made repeat contact with his ribs.
He shot Snotlout a heavy glare, and Astrid could’ve sworn she saw Snotlout mouth ‘sorry’ at him. Which, in a way that she absolutely could not be blamed for, made her even more curious about the pair of them. Now she had to know what was going on. Snotlout apologising? Unheard of. Not even ten years could change that. The calculating look had cleared from Fishlegs’ eyes, and he and Hamish seemed to be having a conversation entirely through increasingly contrite facial expressions. They reached an impasse when Hamish shot Fishlegs a look that very clearly translated to ‘tell anyone and I’ll kill you’ and Fishlegs audibly gulped in response.
And that was only increasing Astrid’s curiosity even more.
The boy tilted his head to the side, back to the soft calm expression he’d shown before. It felt weirdly familiar to Astrid, she knew what the expression meant.
“Snotlout you’re an ass.” He said, breaking the silence that had fallen over their table. And there was something familiar about that too. The inflections of the words rolling and smooth. He turned his gaze to Astrid and Ruff, eyebrows furrowed, and expression shaded in nerves.