So, just for any of those wondering, there will be multiple P. in this story, each change indicated by a small sub-title in bold which will state just who's eyes the story is being told through. It shouldn't get too confusing, so, with that said, enjoy the story!
Hiccup's P.O.V
I clutch the key to my dorm firmly in my palm, the cool brass against my skin reminding me that I'm no longer tied to the world that had become my home; now, I'm free to make my own way in life. And it all starts here at Dreamworks College. I've wanted to come here for as long as I can remember; my dream was always to make it here and finally learn my place in the world since, up until now, it's seemed as if my life didn't really have too much meaning. I guess that that was because I had always convinced myself that my life would truly begin when I finally reached the school that I've longed to get into for the entirety of my childhood. And now that I'm finally here and making my way towards my room, where I am to meet my new room-mate who will be spending the next couple of years having to tolerate my terrible studying habits, everything is beginning to feel solid. There's nothing able to stop me any longer; I'm here now and there isn't a thing in the world that can take that away from me any more!
True, in the past, there were distractions along the way, such as the passing of my mother when I was about 9 years of age, the cruel hands of fate tearing her from my life much sooner than she should have left me to fend for myself, my dad not really being much help since he never really cared much for what I wanted to do with my life; he was always trying to get me to be what he wanted and take up his interests. I guess that he eventually gave up when he realized that I possessed my mother's ambitions and ceased trying to influence me in joining in with his hobbies, allowing me the space that I needed to study in order to pass my exams and to even get in. Luckily, it was no challenge as I also acquired my mother's smarts as well, allowing me to fly through them with no troubles whatsoever, firm grades of A's and A+'s scoring me my position in Dreamworks College.
When I manage to pull my mind out of its zoned out state, I hear the steady thump of music sounding from only a few meters away, the hallways bouncing to the beat of what seems to be 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons, the melody breaking through the walls and reaching my ears with ease. However, I also manage to pick out the lyrics of 'Pompeii' thrown into the mix and wonder if two different people are playing both songs at the same time, causing them to melt together into a medley that actually sounds really awesome! I can't help but smirk as I tap my long and slender fingers against my thighs as I continue to pace to the room marked on the key, being 2112, the epic mash-up holding it there as it continues to carry me into a state on enjoyment, which only increases when I realize that it's emanating from the door to which my key is intended for, meaning that whomever I am to be sharing a room with is already here and is currently playing some pretty decent music. At least he's got good taste!
Finally slipping my hand onto the silver metal that acts at the handle for the door to the next couple of years of my life, the prickling excitement suddenly pulses through me as I allow true reality to sink in; I'm actually here, in the school of my dreams, about to meet the person of whom I'm going to be sharing this room with for at least the next 2 years that I'm going to be studying at this college. However, as expected, I can't prevent the invading nerves that tingle in my fingertips; what if my room-mate is a complete ass or has no tolerance when it comes to my habits involving studying until at least midnight on most nights? What if I hate him but am stuck with him until the day that I leave here? Oh, Gods, please just give me this; you've managed to mess my life up this much so far, can't you just give me this one?! I guess that I'm not going to find out if my prayers have been heard until I open up the door and finally reveal that person that awaits me inside.
The second that the door so much as cracks open, the pounding chorus of what I can only guess is the 'Pompeii is Radioactive' mash-up that I heard mere seconds ago bellows from the room with a mighty volume that would drown out any possible hopes of having a conversation without feeling the need to compete against the music. I don't mind, however; believe it or not, music was all that I had to fall back on when times were especially tough, many different tracks of hundreds of different genres allowing me to just forget about all of the shit that I was going through and focus on what was good in life. I find that familiar smile tugging at my lips once again as the rough beat consumes my system, my right foot lightly tapping against the thin layer of carpet that lies underneath me, whereas my prosthetic left leg remains stationary. Oh yeah, I guess that's another thing that I haven't had chance to explain. However, the sight of who's already rooting around in the room for something that he's obviously already lost separates my thoughts from my own form for a while.
Though I can't really identify the features that adorn his face due to his head being buried in a compartment drawer that is nestled at the base of one of the beds, which hugs a small alcove in the wall, I can only make out a few details of his persona. First of all, he's slim, like, really slim. No, seriously, I'm not joking; it's like someone has stripped his bones of their flesh, his slender legs being plastered in a pair of light-chocolate pants which seem to stick to them without any kind of effort at all, but still emphasise the lack of size that they possess. I can only guess that the rest of his form is like this, however, due to his no doubt spindly arms being draped in an over-sized cobalt hoodie, which must be simultaneously drowning his torso, it's difficult for me to know for sure.
Just to make my presence known, I clear my throat in the hope that it will cut through the fading music, the song coming to its conclusion whilst the beat gradually dies down until the room is enveloped in an eerie silence; it doesn't seem right for there to be no steady pounding constantly bouncing about on the walls of the room, a slight element of dismay being concocted within me. However, I'm slightly glad for the impending silence as it grasps at the attention of my room-mate, who's eyebrows furrow almost instantly when he realizes that the music has met its end and that a new track must be launched in order to once again fill the room. It's only when his eyes trail over to the door, do they suddenly widen in slight shock when he notices me standing there with a man-sized duffel bag dangling from my shoulder, dressed in my well-fitting khaki jumper and plain, pitch skinny-jeans that hug both of my legs, the feeling of the denim only felt against my right leg due to my left being nothing but whatever prosthetic limbs are made from. And, as much as I'd like to tell you about how I earned this handicap, I once again get distracted by the new information of his facial features that's presented to me as his glistening azure eyes just remain locked on me.
With soft features that mould effortlessly to expression his current emotion, one of realization passing over his eyes as he recognises that I must be the owner of the other bed in the room, which lies at a 90 degree angle to his and is buried into its own little alcove, I'm forced to wonder what kind of personality he possesses; it's difficult to tell from mere looks alone. As he takes a pace forwards, hauling himself up from his place next the drawer under his own bed, which is already full of a wide assortment of items that I'll probably still never see all of by the time we graduate, the bright light produced from the shimmering bulb overhead catches on his hair. I can barely believe how white it is; I've met platinum blondes before, but this is something else! The messy strands that fly about in almost every direction each seem to glint with a silver essence of freshly fallen snow with each movement that he makes towards me.
"So, you're my room-mate, huh? Good to meet you, I'm Jack. Jack Frost, if you wanna be formal about it. Just to let you know, though, I don't tend to get to sleep until at least midnight." I inwardly breathe a massive sigh of relief as I can finally form an opinion on the guy in front of me, who's made his way over to the dock that his iPod rests upon so that he can skim through his music to find the next track in his arsenal. Finally, someone who won't be pissed off by my studies, though he might still find it slightly boring of me to do nothing but revise whilst he'll probably be up on the internet, which is undoubtedly supplied here as, if it weren't, there'd probably be a full-on uprising on their hands. Seriously, us teenagers and our internet; if it's so much as taken from us for a few minutes, we turn ravenous for the blood of whomever is depriving us of it. Or is that just me?
"Hiccup. Well, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III if you're still intent on being formal." A smirk of approval seems to crawl its way up the side of Jack's face whilst he continues to fiddle with the bulky piece of tech that lies under his fingertips, since he possesses a proper iPod as opposed to one of those touch-screen ones. Man, I just keep finding more and more upsides to my new room-mate who seems to be able to recognise, and further take, a joke.
"I have come across many names in my time, and yours is probably the best I've ever heard, Hiccup. I think we're going to get on quite well, you and I." Retuning his smirk as a form of slight thanks towards what I think is a compliment, he turns away from me to focus on the lightly illuminated screen of his iPod, his teeth chewing away at his bottom lip, which seems chapped from the amount of times that they must have needed to seek refuge there. And, for some reason that leaves me completely bewildered, I find the subject of his lips to be something that compels me slightly, as if just the sight makes me somewhat curious. What's that about?
"Yeah, well, I hated it for most of my life but, now that I know that my mom had given it to me, I suppose that I've learned to love it," I mutter with a false breath of laughter escaping from my lungs to cover up for the obvious ache that I desperately seek to hide; I don't want Jack thinking that his new room-mate is just some guy who'll never stop going on about his mother's death and will be constantly moping about whenever the subject comes up in conversation. To my relief, my façade seems to have worked when he simply shakes his head, still occupied with what seems to be his endless library of music.
"I think it's pretty awesome! It's unique, I'll give you that, and it's also really fun to say, which is always a good quality in a name, if I'm permitted to say so." Finally, Jack's cerulean irises seem to light up and the grip that his teeth have on his bottom lip tightens in victory, his forefinger flying to the button that will begin the next song of his choice. And, when the music flows from the speakers, I recognise it instantly; it was my favourite song a few months back and, even to this day, it never gets old.
"You're asking permission to compliment my name?" I comment as Jack straightens out since he needed to bend over in order to scan the screen of his iPod due his sheer height, which seems to exceed mine by a couple of inches, the lyrics of 'On Top of the World' by Imagine Dragons taking their rightful place in the surrounding air.
"Well, you know how some people can be; you throw one word of praise their way and they assume that other intentions were stored away behind it." In response, we both lightly chuckle and I can't help but smile when his teeth once again burrow into the right side of his bottom lip, which must be some kind of reflex that occurs whenever he's brought either an element of glee or concentration as these are the only times that I've seen him perform this action. In all honesty, I find it kind of reassuring as it seems as if he's not afraid to cover up his true personality in order to persuade me that he's going to be the 'perfect' room-mate. I would rather him be true to me than to just act like a completely different person on day one, leaving me to find out about all of his flaws later on.
Eventually, he notices that I'm tapping either my foot or my fingers in time to the music and a crooked smile weaves onto his lips whilst one of his slender hands tugs through his hair, before resuming with whatever he was doing when I entered, not faltering in holding a conversation in doing so as I also begin what will most likely be the next hour's worth of unpacking. "So, you like Imagine Dragons?" He somewhat calls over the music, his voice obviously muffled from being buried in that drawer once again, as if he's still intent on finding whatever it is that he's looking for. And, of course, I don't miss the bottom of his lip tucked in slightly whilst concentration paints itself over his features, his eyebrows furrowing as he increases his focus whilst rooting around in the drawer.
"Yeah! Their music got me through exams so I owe them a lot." I can't help but reminisce back to when the sturdy, yet expertly crafted, rhythms to each of their songs allowed me to focus my mind in order to really get into my studies, making those seemingly painful hours of revising the same thing over and over that little less intolerable. However, it was all worth it in the end; I'm in the college of my dreams, sharing a room with possibly one of the best people that they could've chosen! I mean, how often is it that you find yourself paired with someone who shares, not only your insane sleeping patterns, but also your taste in music, humour and even personality; though we probably differ in many ways, I can't help but feel as if him and I are extremely alike. Strange, huh?
"True that; I'd listen to them whenever I got a break. I'd never be able to study whilst listening, though, 'cause I'd always get lost in the music. Though it probably sounds crazy, I can't help but feel as if the lyrics connect to me in some sense some of the time," he seems to wistfully sigh whilst he brings his head up out of the drawer, his irises glistening with what looks to be an element of wholeness that can only be brought about by divulging yourself in the music completely and utterly.
"That's not crazy; I feel like that all of the time. I guess it offers me escapism from reality, which is always appreciated to be frank." Though I catch his eyebrows folding into slight confusion towards my words, I keep my head directed towards my duffel bag as I begin to unearth the clothes that I must place in their respectable drawers, which are stationed underneath a decently-sized plasma-screen TV that takes its place on the lightly coloured wood. Knowing that it's unlikely that he'll be able to beckon forth any answers from me, Jack redirects his gaze back towards the drawer under his bed, before he finally ensnares something in his palm.
"Gotcha!" He exclaims with slight pride lacing his tone, once again stirring the curiosity within me; just what was he looking for in there that's so small and next to invisible amidst all of his other articles, yet also seems to hold some kind of importance?
"What were you looking for?" I accidentally let the question tumble out of my mouth before I'm able to halt it, the music not providing any help in covering up the unintentionally asked statement, much to my dismay. I hate nosy people, being nosy or openly creating a statement that makes me seem nosy. Gods, I really hope that he doesn't mind me asking!
"Oh, it's nothing!" He utters much quicker than I'd like, merely causing the welling interest towards whatever object is stored in Jack's palm to increase to the point where I cave in and admit it to myself. I'm being nosy. I merely give him a pleasant nod before he quickly scurries off to the en-suite, not asking any further questions as I once again direct my attention back toward my bag, which seems to look even more daunting than it did before I started taking any of my clothes out. However, just before I continue my job of unpacking, my gaze flickers to the ajar bathroom door, where I catch what seems to be a flash of silver between Jack's fingers, before he stores whatever reflective item that he has possession of away into the confines of the cupboard, which must rest over the sink just like most bathroom storage units. What was that just now? Why would Jack have a mirror that small? Then again, why would Jack need a mirror at all when there's one in both our room and, obviously, the bathroom, which I deduce from how Jack begins gazing forwards and pawing at his hair? The more that I think about it, was that really a mirror?
***A/N***
Hey there my AMAZING readers, and welcome to a fanfiction based around the king of OTPs! Now, I know that I already have a Hijack fanfic already up, but this one is a much more modern spin on things without all of the flame-spitting reptiles and such. However, this story does take on quite a serious tone quite early on, as explained in the blurb, and it's actually an issue that I've never faced. Therefore, if I don't get it right later on, then I apologize (I don't really know anyone with this issue, nor have I suffered through it myself)
Anyhoo, I hope that what this story is based around doesn't throw you off, but just to warn you, it's not for the faint of heart. I can't wait to get feedback, follows and favourites on this story since I love reading comments and such; it makes me feel as if I can interact with you guys better that way ^u^
So, until next time, when we find out a little more about both Jack and Hiccup, as well as meet some unfriendly faces...
Peace out, my lovely peeps! XxX