Jack

Frozen. A frozen, empty heart that feels as if it would shatter to any beat by now, and at any moment. Blistering, ice-run blood pumps through my veins, second after second. The deep red liquid travels through my body to each singular capillary, bringing friends of crimson ice. A head rush won't happen, since I'll always be cool-headed with this slow-moving fuel. However, it doesn't discomfort me. Why would it? This… way, this… life, is normal for a human… Right?

Hiccup

I woke up unusually early this morning. I guess one would think because I might be excited for something or I just couldn't sleep. Well, kind of. It was more like I had a dream with some sort of flying peacock-monkey break dancer who offered me a job in the Russian spy business which eventually led to an explosion that sounded a bit too realistic. In other words, I woke up to the sound of my gigantic burly father making breakfast once again. Yay.

I crawled out of bed and trudged my way down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own toes. Klutz. I take my breakfast waft of the morning just to smell something that I don't usually smell. Once it hits me like a rock, I try to run the rest of the way to the main floor but stumbled and tripped, sliding onto the hardwood floor.

"Oh, hello son," my father said from the stove. "Why are you on the ground? Did you get hit by a rock?" Not funny dad. I ignored his remark and stood up, wiping the dust off my pajamas.

"Are you going to share, dad?" I asked, acting as if it were a normal day. He turns off the stove and slides the contents of the frying pan onto a serving platter, along with the rest of whatever he decided to make.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He picks up the platter and places it onto the kitchen's island while I take a seat on the other side. I'm about to dig into the rare-occasion meal, when suddenly, my dad takes the whole thing and slides it down his throat with ease. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a big guy, but I don't think he needs to eat an entire plate of bacon.

"Dad!" I yell rather instinctively. He never shares meat with me in the morning. He says it's because he needs the protein to grow even bigger, but I think he's fine where he's at. Besides, how am I supposed to meet up to his expectations if he doesn't give me the chance to grow?

I left the kitchen and headed for my room, quite defeated. I enter my room, slamming the door shut behind me. With my head feeling heavy, I lean up against the door. Why? Why am I not good enough? I've never been able to please my father. I don't know why I have to be big and buff to become an equal to my own dad, but I'd try anyway, because that's what a loved one does for another. Right?

Hey, mom. Where are you right now? Heaven, perhaps? I hope so… I miss you. Do you miss me? I want to see you right now, but I know you see me, so I should be fine for now.

Slowly, I push off the door and sit at my desk, opening one of its four drawers: the top one. I dig to the bottom of all the junk that lie there and pull out an old photo album that my dad told me to rid of when mom died. I couldn't. Who could? Who would?Who would get rid of their last and only memories of a loved one? My father? Well… it doesn't surprise me.

I flip through the old, tattered and torn pages. I see a picture of a buff man next to a fairly thin woman, who held a small baby in her arms… You see, I never really knew my mother personally, but I guess that she must have been a nice lady. I take another look at the picture. I'm nothing like my dad. I know, I know! Stop it already.

I shove the book back into the drawer with an exchange for a thick-papered spiral. I open to a new page, grab my pencil, and start a new sketch of what I might look like if I met up to my father. After finishing, I take a good look at it… It's nothing like me. It's not who I am…

I put my sketchbook away and stand up to see something from the corner of my eye. I turn, fixing my vision outside the window.

Pulling into the driveway of the house across the street was a small moving van. Somebody's moving in? I thought. I hope it's somebody I can hang out with. It'd be refreshing to have some new company around here. Exiting the van was an old couple, followed by a boy who looked my age, maybe fifteen. I couldn't see his face though, due to him wearing a blue hoodie. My eyes widen as I fling my door open and dash down the stairs, finally feeling the ecstatic mood I'd usually be in. I pass my dad who sat upon the couch watching television, as usual.

"Dad," I start- "there's somebody moving in across the street! I'm gonna go greet them!" I hear my dad take in a breath, about to speak, but he gets cut off by the loud slam of the front door.

After racing across the street without looking for cars, I reach the end of the driveway and stare in awe of all the commotion. The old man was surprisingly strong and carried in a couch with the help of the boy. Excitedly, I began to follow after them to say hello, but I was tapped on the shoulder. I turn around surprised and look down slightly to see a nice-looking elder woman.

"May I help you youngster?" She asked in a weak, quivering voice. I hesitated for a moment, and noticed her holding a vase in her other hand.

"U-Uh…" I stuttered like a fool. Geez I'm always an idiot when I'm myself… Sadly. "I, uh, I saw you guys moving in and I wanted to know if you could use some help…" I said unsurely. She smiled, even though it looked like it hurt, and handed me the vase she held.

"Oh, why thank you, dearie." It seemed like she had to force herself. "I'll go make some snacks for you boys then." "…Boys"? Oh yeah! I came here to greet that hooded kid who looked kind of stalker-ish.

Remembering my mission, I grip the vase tightly in both my hands and enter the house. I haven't been here in so long. Not since Astrid, my childhood friend moved away. Well, I wouldn't really call her my childhood friend, more like a bully of the sorts. Anyway, inside the house, I see that they set all the boxes and decorations in the living room and kitchen up ahead. I infer that I should place the vase there as well, but when I do, I suddenly jump to the sound of a voice behind me. I spun on my heels immediately.

"That doesn't go there," said the new kid rather calmly. I give a sheepish grin and pick it up again to hand it over. And as I do, his fingers brush mine and I flinch. Wh-Wha? Don't give him the wrong idea idiot! I panic in my head. Luckily, he didn't notice.

I didn't flinch because of his touch, but because his hand was as cold as ice. Well, I guess that explains the whole hoodie thing. Though, I was expecting a creepy guy…

After placing the vase on the coffee table in the living room, he turned around, taking his hood off. I blinked a few times, unsure of what I was seeing. His skin was as pale as snow and his hair even whiter. An albino? But, he can't be, because his eyes are blue. There's a big difference between him and I… I mean, I have freckles and brown hair. Oh, but now I see that my green eyes may never compare to his deep, yet clear blue.

"Jack." He says, startling me. I snap out of my stare and straighten up. "Jack Frost."

"U-Umm.. Uh, I'm.." My head lowers on its own. I don't want to say it. Oh god… It's so god damn embarrassing. "Hiccup, Horrendous, Haddock the Third." I mumble softly under my breath. He cocks his head at me, as though I caught his interest.

"I'm sorry," he says, with a sly smile. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you." I take a glance at him from behind my bangs.

"I-It's, Hic-"

"Still can't hear you," he casually says to the entire household. Ugh, fine-

"It's Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!" I shout quickly while squeezing my eyes shut. There's a pause. I open my eyes to see Jack holding back a laugh, but he seems confused to why. Unable to control himself, he lets it all go, face turning red and all. Wow, his laughter is contagious, I'm finding myself starting to chuckle as well, and burst into comedic song with him.

After the laughing fit we shared, Jack went quiet and seemed confused. I was about to say something to him, but then the elderly couple walked in.

"Oh, so you've already met Jack, huh?" The old man said while smiling healthily. "Hello there, son." He held out his hand to me, and so I shook it with a single nod. "My name's Carl Fredricksen, and my wife here," he nodded to the old woman behind him, "… is Ellie Fredricksen. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, sir." I nod to him with respect, and then release the handshake. He gives a refreshing smile and begins to speak but was cut off by a dim voice full of hatred. You could tell.

"You know, you don't have to call that old hag 'sir'," said Jack with his back turned to us. The room fell silent, and so he left for the upstairs. I turned back to his… guardians, and made an effort to smile. I wanted to cheer them up, but I just didn't know how.

Ellie broke the silence, "Well, I guess that's all the boxes we had." She laughed nervously. "We best be getting things unpacked now. We'll be seeing you, uh… Um.." God, not again.

"Hiccup… Just call me Hiccup." She nodded in response. "Well, I guess I'll go now then. Bye, Mister and Misses Fredricksen." I exited the front door that had already been open, and jogged to my house half-heartedly.

Jack

"It's Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!"

Heh… Heh heh.. Hehehehehee, ahahahahaha hahahahaha! I try to cover my mouth as much as I can, for it could probably cause me to self-implode, whatever it is. I clamp my mouth and grab my stomach as hard as I can, but this weird feeling can't hold back any longer.

"Hahaha! Hehehehee heh hahaha!" W-Wait a minute! What am I doing? Why does my abdomen hurt, and why is my face so… so… WHATEVER IT IS, IT'S NOT COLD! I try to stop myself from the uncomfortable feeling, but my head is clouded with a strange emotion I can't recognize. As soon as I thought it was ending, I heard another voice join me, fueling the flames. I don't understand, it hurts physically, but it's somehow pleasant mentally. Wait, did I just say 'pleasant'…? What's that mean? ...

Oh, wait… It's finally subsiding now. As I try to catch my breath, I look up to see who had followed me into such torture. Oh, it's that one kid, Hiccup. Heh, heh… Wait, what? I don't understand what just happened.

I was about to ask the green-eyed boy what had happened to me when I heard the sound of footsteps echo into the room. I stopped to see my 'guardians', walk in all cheery, which was unusual. They looked at me, then Hiccup and started chatting. I didn't really care for what they had to say, so I just turned around, ready to leave. But then, entering my grid of hearing, were the words:

"It's nice to meet you too, sir." The boy had said it, and I just can't let that pass.

"You know, you don't have to call that old hag 'sir'," I said dimly. The room fell silent, so I left and headed upstairs. When I reach the top, I go towards the bathroom and swiftly shut the door without a sound.

As I start undressing, I run the water for dead cold. While finished discarding, and waiting for the liquid to reach my desired temperature, I look into the mirror at my pale figure. I know I don't belong here. All I see to live for is the joys of the cold. Nothing else. Nothing else will numb the uncomfortable and strange feelings that humans aren't supposed to have. Yet, why am I yearning for that feeling shared between that kid and I? What is it that makes me think like this?