A/N

Can I hear you say HIJAAAACK!

Sorry... That was a bit in your face x'D But yes, I'm back to the Hijack :D This ship is just too perfect to leave untouched and I got this inspiration from a fanfic that I read by someone else on here, though their name slips from my mind. If I remember, I'll write it in the next chapter :3 So ya, ima let you get on and I hope you enjoy :D

Peace out, my lovely peeps!XxX

(If I ever do a POV switch, I'll mark it out with a horizontal line ^^)


"Is it too late to turn around and go back to New York?" I grumble as my eyes stare out of the window, watching the nothingness blur past. And past. And past. It never ends; all I've been able to see for the last 45 minutes of the car journey is green and brown splodges of color that flit past the window before they're replaced by a fresh dollop of the same colors. Right after, I let out a sigh when my uncle just laughs, not taking me seriously, just like always. I swear, no matter what I want, he never cares. Some guardian.

"Yes, Jack. You'll like it here, I promise," he tries to enthuse in his thick, Australian accent, though I don't buy his bull for a second. All I've ever known is the city, bright lights and a 24/7 supply of taxis. There's no way in hell I'm going to survive a single second in the middle of nowhere! But, like I stated earlier, despite my protests, Aster just doesn't listen.

Rolling my eyes, I just jam in my headphones whilst he continues to ramble on about how I'll be able to make loads of new friends, see new places and try new things, to which I reply by saying that I liked my old friends, I don't want to see any new places and I was perfectly happy doing what I did every day in New York. That ends the conversation and allows me to listen to my music in peace, Fall Out Boy blasting into my ears to drown out Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Don't get me wrong, I love their music, but so does my uncle. So I therefore can't enjoy it in front of him else he won't shut up about how we 'finally have something in common apart from the branches of our family tree'. I swear, he tries way too hard to get to know me and find ways in which for us to fit together so that he can treat me like a son rather than a nephew. Which is why I always cut every attempt he makes short. Nobody's gonna replace my dad and I'm not gonna let Aster even try. He's not his brother.

Whilst zoning out, a sudden speck of grey appears among the nature-colored blobs, my eyes scanning for more and more as they gradually take dominance, a little hope filling me. Well, at least we're not gonna be stuck in a cabin in the center of a forest where an axe murderer might try to kill us. Plucking out my ear-bud, I hear Aster laughing, my gaze turning to him whilst I frown.

"What?" I snap defensively, quickly redirecting my eyes outside the window again with a huff, not amused by the way that Aster's chuckling at me as if he's trying to poke fun.

"The look on your face, mate! What did you expect?" He laughs, only getting a shrug in response whilst my lips press themselves into a straight line, my eyebrows still furrowed together into an agitated knot. Sometimes, I really can't stand this guy. Correction: most of the time.

The drive to our new house takes an extra 10 minutes thanks to the way that every single road here seems to twist and turn every 5 meters, admittedly causing my stomach to coil a few times; I never really liked travelling by car and it's finally starting to take its effect. Just brilliant.

However, we eventually reach it, though I'm not too impressed; the front door is an ugly green color that's framed by bright, orange bricks that I swear would literally glow if the sunlight was harsh enough. But it's not; the miserable clouds blot out all sight of the ball of gas and fire, staining it silver as opposed to golden. And, just to add to the already brilliant atmosphere, it's drizzling with rain. Perfect. "The moving van shouldn't be too far behind," Aster comments, getting out of the car and scratching behind his ear, his foot twitching a little as he does.

I swear, each time he does it, it always reminds me of a rabbit. I think that's why I always called him Bunny prior to age 5. Ever since then, it's been Aster. Never 'uncle'... Just Aster. "Ain't she a beauty," he breathes, clearly awestruck by the petite, two-floor house before us. Raising my eyebrows, I scoff and run my hand through my messy, silver hair.

"There are many words for this place. And that is one I definitely wouldn't use," I mutter, Aster letting out an audible sigh as he turns to me, dismay clear in his irises. He knows I hate it here. He knows he isn't going to convince me that I'm gonna like it here. But is that gonna stop him?

"Look, Jack. I know it's a change-"

"-Understatement."

"And I know you loved the city-"

"-You going somewhere with this because you're just sounding more and more like the bad guy?"

"What I'm saying is that this is a new start. Away from everything. Away from the past," he explains, slight anger instantly curling up in my stomach as I glare at him, turning away and folding my arms with a scowl.

"If you're trying to make me forget about mom and dad, you've got another thing coming," I hiss, unable to argue with him any more as, just at that second, the moving-truck rolls around the corner and Aster has to tend to filling the house with our furniture, though there isn't much to put up in all honesty. Well, not much that I care about. As long as I get the photos I packed, as well as things I treasure dearly, then I don't care about anything else.

"Jack, go meet the neighbors whilst I get the furniture unloaded," Aster suggests, my shoulders dropping at the sheer mention. I don't want to make friends. I don't want to meet new people and act like I'm gonna be nice to them when, in my head, I'll be wondering why the hell they're living in a place like this and what possessed them to think it was a good idea. Maybe, if I knew that, I'd be able to cure Aster of this craziness and he'll take me back home.

For at least 5 minutes I just aimlessly wander around, not making any attempt to interact with anyone at all; these aren't the kind of people I know. They've lived in the middle of nowhere for their entire lives so how the heck am I supposed to bond with people who probably won't understand a thing about me? Perhaps I'm being a little harsh, but I just don't see myself getting on with the people around here.

Drowning in my thoughts, lazily pacing close to the sidewalk, though I prefer to takes steps on the road instead for a reason that I never really understood, I accidentally start maneuvering towards the right, my ankle catching on the curb. This throws my entire balance and I end up toppling up onto the sidewalk with a startled cry, hissing in pain when I scrape my elbows on the asphalt.

"Ah crap," I hiss, pawing at my hoodie, which has been torn by the rough ground that I'm now lying upon, some stones littering the cuts that have formed on my arms. As I dab the tiny wounds, vicious stings race up my nerves, blood speckling the fabric that I'm using to mop up the crimson liquid that slowly trickles from the cut.

"Hey, are you alright?" A voice suddenly asks, my eyes breaking away from my arm to find them meeting with a pair of huge, emerald ones, whose brightness is accented by the auburn hair that tumbles over his forehead. "I saw you fall. You're not hurt, are you?" He asks in a caring manner, offering his hand to me so that he can pull me up. Taking it with a smile, I hoist myself onto my feet, brushing down my hoodie and frowning when I inspect my elbows again.

"Not really. But these sting like a bitch," I murmur, my gaze once again finding the boy's face, noticing that he has freckles littering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, as well as a tiny scar just below his bottom lip. Also frowning, his hands gently seize my arm, his fingers brushing away some of the dirt that's managed to get itself dangerously close to the bleeding cuts.

"I've got some antiseptic back at my place," he explains, handing me back my arm before he sets off down the road, beckoning me to follow him. Well, I guess he's not too bad; he doesn't seem like the kind of person I'd usually become friends with, but maybe I may as well try with him. He's clearly doing that with me.

"You're just gonna trust a complete stranger?" I question, raising an eyebrow with a smirk that causes him to breathe a laugh, shrugging whilst he slips his hands into the pockets of his ebony skinny-jeans. "How do you know I didn't do that on purpose so you'll invite me into your house? I could be anyone," I continue, only resulting in more giggles sounding from the auburn-haired boy.

"I don't. There are just some people I feel I can trust right away," he says as if it's the most simplest thing in the world, though I don't understand how he could form a judgement like that so quickly. To put it bluntly, I've had trust issues ever since my parents died. Not sure why; I just refuse to place my wholehearted trust into a single person. "But knowing your name would put me at ease a little more," he adds, encouraging a smirk to pluck on my lips, my hand running through my hair when he turns back to look at me.

"It's Jack. Jack Frost," I say, taking myself by surprise when I realize how sheepishly I said that, most likely because my name embarrasses me. I mean, Jack's not too bad. But Jack Frost? I hate it. Always have in all honesty; it sounds way too much like a fairy tale, which my life is as far away from as possible.

"That's such an awesome name! I'm so jealous!" He enthuses, causing me to frown in confusion at the awe that glimmers in his irises. Why the heck would anyone be jealous of a name as dumb as mine? He then turns back to face forward, though I caught sight of the smirk that he flashed in my direction before he does, making me smile slightly. "My name's Hiccup. Hiccup Haddock," he somewhat groans, the fact that he detests his name extremely evident in his voice. However, I think it's pretty sweet; I'd love to have a unique name. But nope; I was called Jack. Probably one of the most generic names aside from Bob and John.

Before we can progress the conversation any further, Hiccup suddenly starts walking up a drive-way, most likely to his house, tugging out a cluster of keys from his pocket that jingle with a metallic ring. Jesus, how many keys can one guy have?! However, I keep my mouth shut, not daring to ask questions; this is a shot at friendship and I don't think Aster will be impressed if I turn up tonight at the house just like 'I tried but my curiosity over his keys screwed me up'.

Once the door's unlocked and open, Hiccup beckons me in, my feet following his silent order as I slip into the homely hallway, the sweet scent of apple hugging my sense of smell as I take a deep breath though my nose. "Sorry if the smell's a little overwhelming. I was making an apple pie earlier," Hiccup giggles, nervously rubbing his nape as he proceeds down the hall, clearly expecting me to follow when he turns back with a smile on his lips.

"You cook?" I ask curiously, thinking that it surely can't be stepping over some kind of line when it comes to finding out information; something like the keys could be more private. But this? I'm sure he won't mind. Why the hell am I freaking out so much?! I mean, it's not like I want to make friends here since I'll be gone as soon as I'm old enough to do so. I guess something in me kinda wants to get to know this guy a little better.

"Sure do. You?" Hiccup inquires, setting his keys down on the circular table in the kitchen, tugging out a chair with a pastel-green seat-pad attached to its deep brown frame, tapping the cushion as if to offer me a seat. Not wanting to seem rude, I settle myself down, watching him as he trails off around the room in search of antiseptic, my shoulders rolling into a shrug.

"Nah. Me and heat don't mix well. Plus, I have the reputation of 'the only person Aster knows that can burn spaghetti' to uphold," I chuckle, Hiccup also laughing at my statement, though he turns around with a small, curious frown on his eyebrows.

"Who's Aster? He your dad?" Damn, that physically hurt. I know it sounds stupid, but it feels like someone's just grabbed my heart and quickly folded it in half, causing it to tighten with grief. Placing my hand on the table, I shake my head, the other rubbing the base of my neck sheepishly.

"He's my uncle. I lost my parents when I was a kid and he was the only one willing to put up with me. I wasn't exactly a family favorite," I mutter sadly, running my fingers through my hair as I gulp down a deep breath, leaning back in the chair. "And before you say you're sorry, it's no big deal," I say, hating it when people instantly look upon me with pity when they realize that I don't have any parents, as well as a family where the majority hates me. It just makes it a million times worse.

"I know what it's like to lose a parent. My mom died a few months after I was born. I hate the sympathy too. Now, where does it hurt?" He asks, cupping my hands so that he can face my elbows towards him, a dollop of antiseptic on his finger.

Is 'in my heart' a valid answer?