Author's Note: I've had so many ideas lately. So here, after much research and thought, is my latest story. I don't know how this will go so bear with me.

This is not a story about a Mary Sue getting her daily dose of pity or a story meant to make fun of people who self harm. It's meant to be fairly serious. To Write Love On Her Arms was inspired by an organization called "To Write Love On Her Arms," which strives to help people across the world who are suffering. If anything in this story strikes home, please consider visiting their website. Hope and help are real.

Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon or anything else in this story other than the plot.

Warning: This story may be triggering for people who are struggling with depression, self harming, or abuse

The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope.

-Renee Yohe

The air was hazy, the taste of that summer's dry heat rushing through her lips. Astrid coughed once as she sat up to clear her throat, her head swivelling around. Across the room, the too-pretty reporter on the TV gave the weather forecast for the week with a stale smile.

"Awake already?"

Astrid traced the voice back to the warm face of her mother, who sat in one of the leather armchairs in front of the TV. She nodded as she pushed a wispy strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"One of the Jensen girls from across the street came over for you earlier. I'm sure they're still out playing in the yard," her mother said as she pushed herself to her feet. She glanced at the clock, her eyes widening slightly. "I'm going to be late to pick up your dad if I don't get going soon. Dinner's in the fridge. Don't stay out too late."

Astrid sighed as her mother handed her the TV remote and kissed her forehead, resisting the urge to wipe the lipstick off of her forehead. "Behave, alright? If you go over to the Jensens' have them call me."

"Okay, mom," Astrid said. She folded her legs beneath her on the floor, pushing the blanket tangled around her feet away. She kept her head lowered as her mother grabbed her purse from its place by the door and shouted her goodbyes.

"Yeah, love you too," Astrid mumbled to herself before grabbing the TV remote and changing the channel to an old comedy movie. Her mother's car pulled out of the garage and rushed down the street, pausing briefly at the stop sign before disappearing behind the trees.

Astrid yawned and walked into the kitchen. She pulled the phone from its receiver, ready to dial the Jensens' number when the dog began to whine in the other room. She set it down on the counter, rolling her eyes as she looked out the windows.

The eldest of the three Jensen girls was walking up the driveway, a soccer ball in her hands. Astrid dashed outside to meet her, forgetting her mother's warning as she followed the other girl across the street.

If she had called, Ingrid might have slowed down for the traffic light in her haste to get home, just missing the speeding pickup that crashed into the driver's side of her car.

Astrid's eyes cracked open once, twice, as faint blue light poured in through the open window and stained the floor. She grimaced as she pushed herself into a sitting position, the corner of the sink cutting into her shoulder. Her entire body ached from sleeping in such an awkward position on the bathroom floor, but she couldn't bring herself to stand and face the world just yet. The tile felt cool on her warm skin, tethering her to the small corner she had found herself in like nicotine's sweet kiss to a smoker's lungs.

Outside, a car sped by. A dog barked. A woman yelled for her children to wait for her. The world was wide awake and moving forward without her.

With one hand on the sink and the other braced against the glass shower door, she climbed to her feet. Her eyes squeezed shut as one of the fresh pink stripes on her left wrist, which she had called battle scars for as long as she could remember, was ripped open. She opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the amber bottle of peroxide, which she set on the sink and uncapped before reaching for a towel. As she turned around and unfolded the towel, her elbow hit the bottle and knocked it into the sink. She watched, frozen, as the liquid flowed down the drain. She was jolted back to reality when her wrist began to throb to its own beat, and immediately reached out for the bottle.

After screwing the top back onto the nearly empty bottle, she wet the towel under the sink faucet and held it to her wrist. The rough material irritated the tender flesh but she didn't dare remove it as she left the bathroom, a glance at the clock on the dresser telling her that she had only 15 minutes to get to work.

As she dressed and twisted her hair into a braid, she kept her thoughts trained on the silence. If she let them wander, they would return to that house on Elmwood street, to the rows of glinting bottles on their kitchen counter and the sound of-

Astrid tugged her lip between her teeth as she braced her hand against the wall. She didn't want to think about that. Not now of all times, when she had been slowly progressing. She felt that she was doing so much better. Was a few minutes of silence and clear thoughts too much to ask for?

Once the bleeding had stopped and the stained towel had been tossed into the laundry hamper, she gently dabbed makeup over her wrists, making sure the skin appeared as smooth and unblemished as possible. More than anything, she hated the shocked and disgusted stares people gave her when she didn't cover her scars, like she was physically hurting them just by being in their presence. But it had been a while since anyone had noticed them, so it was her own secret escape, hidden in plain sight. And she preferred it to be that way.

She grabbed her sweater on the way out and held her breath as she walked down the empty hallway. She jogged down the stairs, her throat thick, and found her car in the lot. Driving alone and seeing the city moving around her always reminded her of what a small, insignificant role she played in such a big world. A miniscule piece that fit into the middle of a seemingly endless puzzle, stretching on forever over the gentle curves of the world.

At a stop light just blocks away from her apartment, she saw him. Or at least she thought she did. Out of instinct, her foot slammed down on the break, her stomach rolling uneasily. She could feel his hands around her neck again, the sweet summer air leaving her lips as she dug her nails into his arms, the voices of the television crackling in her ears a million years away-

Stop. Don't do this to yourself. Not today. Not again.

Her hands trembled as she willed herself to pull over to the side of the road. There was no one behind her, but she wouldn't take the chance. Her breath became ragged as she let her head fall onto the steering wheel, hot tears stinging her eyes as they streamed down her cheeks in mascara-darkened rivers.

Astrid was halfway through replying to an email from her editor-in-chief when a shadow crossed in front of the bright sunbeam cascading through the window behind her onto her desk. She cleared her throat as she minimized the screen.

"Good morning, Milady," a familiar voice chirped.

Astrid looked up from her computer, a bright smile plastering itself to her lips without her consent. Her hands left the keyboard in front of her to slide under safety of the desk, tugging at the sleeves of her pale blue sweater anxiously. "Hey you," she replied.

Her heart banged against her ribcage like a wild animal as she waited for him to speak again. She couldn't read his expression and that scared her. What if he noticed that she was wearing the same dress she had been wearing the day before? Did he see that her makeup was smudged from the tears that had slipped down her cheeks just minutes before she had walked through those doors?

She felt like an open book, laid out to be read by whoever took interest in knowing her deepest and darkest secrets.

Hiccup leaned against the side of her desk, his green eyes glowing in the fluorescent light, radiating happiness. Finally, he spoke, "So how are you on this fine April morning?"

She laughed once, humorlessly, and trained her eyes on the window, watching as raindrops splattered against the glass. She couldn't look at those cheery, innocent green eyes after what had happened that morning at the stop light. "Tired. I was up all night with Stormfly. She hasn't been feeling great lately." Lies, lies, lies…

"If you want I could come by and help out with her," Hiccup offered.

Astrid swallowed hard, thinking. "No. No, it's fine, really."

"Are you sure, because-"

"Hiccup, I'm sure," she said quickly, the words burning her tongue in their haste to leave her lips. The corners of his lips dipped towards the floor, his eyebrows pulling together, his disbelief clear as day in his green eyes. Frustrated with herself, she ran her thumb over one of her more recent additions to the growing number of battle scars crisscrossing her arms, the little jolt of pain sending a rush of euphoria through her veins. She blinked away the glazed look that came over her blue eyes as she realized that Hiccup was speaking to her.

"-if you're sure. Listen, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?"

"Dinner? With you?"

Hiccup smiled and glanced down at his shoes, his face turning a soft pink with embarrassment. "Yeah, just as friends. I mean, if that's what you want of course," he added.

She gave him a weak but genuine smile. Hiccup was her best friend, so why shouldn't she enjoy a night out with him, right? An image of the unopened pack of cheap razors in her apartment flashed through her mind and the smile vanished. No, it was stupid to think that she could do that. She wouldn't hurt him, not like she felt she had so carelessly with the others.

"I would love that, but I...I can't. I'm sorry, Hiccup."

A lopsided smile crossed his features. "Really? You've never passed up my cooking before. And, bonus, I promised Toothless that I would give him a bath tonight. Dinner and a show."

He watched as her thoughts played across her face, hope glittering in his eyes. As the seconds ticked past, his smile wilted and disappeared. She sighed softly, the sound almost completely unheard by him. "Okay," she whispered.

A bright grin lit up his face. "Awesome," he said, "I'll pick something up on my way home tonight. Maybe a movie too? Does a comedy sound good?"

She nodded. "That sounds perfect," she said truthfully. It would be nice to get away, although for a short while. "I can't wait."

At half past six, Astrid stood outside Hiccup's door, a jacket folded over her arm. Her eyes followed the curb of the hushed street, observing the warm lights glowing in the windows of the houses, bordered by manicured lawns decorated with children's toys and vibrant flowerbeds. The house before her was simple but nonetheless welcoming.

She smiled as the door opened and Hiccup's eyes met hers. He held the door open wider, jumping out of the way so she could step inside. As she did so, she couldn't help but notice his attire. The green button down he wore was far more formal than the dress she was still wearing after two days, its skirt wrinkled from sleep. If she looked down, she would surely find a stain or two on the sleeve from her makeup. But she hadn't wanted to go home and risk giving in to the temptation of the unopened package of cheap razors hidden away under the sink in the bathroom.

"Make yourself at home. I just put the movie in, and there's pasta. Is that okay? I mean, I can make something different if you want," Hiccup said.

"No, pasta is fine," she said.

He reached for her jacket, meeting her eyes as he gently pulled it from her grasp. He took it with him into the kitchen, calling something over his shoulder that she couldn't quite make out. She slipped out of her heels and followed him.

As they ate, she listened to his stories about Toothless and his family, raising questions and laughing when he paused to take a much-needed breath or lift a bite to his lips. He smiled at her in a way that made her chest feel tight and hot, like a match had been touched to her heart, setting her ablaze. In those short moments, she valued their friendship more than ever. She cherished his trust and honesty and took what he called his flaws, like the smattering of light freckles across his nose or the way his smile crooked to one side, things that made him beautiful to her, with a grain of salt. For just a little while, long enough to drag a small smile back across her face, he had chased away the demons of her past, and not once did she find herself slipping away from his green eyes.