A/N: So I don't know if you have "wild beaches" where you're from - it's basically a beach with no buildings where you go camping; that's where the story is set.
Inspired by and written during my vacation at the best wild beach to ever exist; also there's a bit which was inspired by a Hijack one-shot where Jack was a history teacher.
Just to make it clear, this can be read as a Hijack one-shot, but the way I intended it they're just platonic friends. You still have the choice how to interpret it, though.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated, I tried something new with this and I'm not really sure if it turned out to be good.
Enjoy and I hope your summer's going great!

"We are all effing weird." Ed Sheeran

Finding Fate

Much happens at the beach – sand castles, sunbathing, volleyball matches, dish-washing, swimming, splashing, diving, snorkelling, treasure hunting… At night though it's bonfires or stargazing – depending on the people and their mood, for the two activities are incompatible. This is why it was strange that a lone stargazer was only ten meters away from a big bonfire surrounded by a group of six, the majority of whom were dancing to the music they'd brought and yelling out the lyrics.

It was late into the moonless night when a lanky figure with auburn hair and a slight limp left the bonfire and his mildly barbaric friends to sit next to the solitary stargazer. "Seen any shooting stars yet?" he asked the latter, who had a shock of bleached white hair. He shook his head 'no'. "What would you wish for, if you did see one?" the first persisted, but only got a shrug in reply. He humphed and fell quiet for a bit, then: "So, no shooting stars… How about UFOs?"

Here the stranger couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Who are you, you weirdo?"

The brunet grinned. "My name's Hiccup." And he offered a hand to shake.

The albino stared at him. "For real?"

"Well, no – but Harvey Hugo Howard is the most ridiculous name to ever exist."

"Says the guy who calls himself Hiccup…" he muttered, but still shook the intruder's hand. He then caught sight of the bottle in his hand and asked with a grin: "Are you drunk?"

Hiccup lifted the offending object so he could see it (it was filled with a brightly-orange fuzzy drink), then shook his head. "Nope, just friendly. And you are?"

"Not drunk either."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Oh, har har." The other laughed.

"It's Jack, Jack Mesechkov."

"Well, it's nice to meet you."

"It is. Hey, no offence or anything, but why're you talking to me?"

Hiccup shrugged. "You seemed lonely. I mean if you wanted solitude I'll leave you be-"

"No, I just- It surprised me, is all." Jack bit his lip, feeling a bit awkward, and asked again. "But really, why?"

The brunet furrowed his eyebrows. "I just told you."

"No, I mean, usually no one cares that this utterly random stranger is alone. So, why do you?"

Hiccup nodded. "Ah. Well, it's simple really – I know what that's like. Wanted to help." The albino knitted his eyebrows and looked to the people around the bonfire, but he hurried to correct. "No, not them, they're great – usually, that is, right now they're horrendously loud and a bit drunk… No, I meant before. I had absolutely no friends before I went to uni, I'm so used to the idea of being lonely that I… kind of knew the signs."

"Why wouldn't they be friends with you?" Jack asked quietly.

He shrugged. "The weird nerdy son of the mayor. You?" As soon as he said it, Hiccup paled and backpedalled. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-"

"The weird reckless orphan." Jack smiled half-bitterly at him. "Don't apologise for guessing the signs right."

Hiccup nodded gratefully. "How old are you, by the way? I'm twenty."

"Seventeen," Jack answered, "I'm hoping to go to uni if I can find myself a job to pay for it, but the chances for that are miniscule."

The brunet grimaced. "And what do you want to study?"

"I'd like to teach history, so probably that. What are you studying?"

"Mechanics and engineering."

"Yikes, sounds hard…"

Hiccup grinned. "It's not unbearable. Teaching history, huh? What do you think of some hands-on experience?"

Jack furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the history teacher in my primary school, Gothi Elderlore, is getting a bit too old to control a dozen or more hyperactive kids for forty minutes and she's looking for an assistant – someone to whom she can show the ropes and stuff so she can retire. The salary's quite decent too, I think, for an assistant… You interested?"

The albino's jaw was hanging open. "Are you pulling my leg or something?"

"Why would I do that?" Hiccup sounded genuinely shocked.

"I don't know, but this is all a bit too weird to be true – stuff that good doesn't happen to me."

One corner of Hiccup's mouth lifted. "Well, you know what they say – there's a first for everything."

"Unbelievable…" Jack's fingers ran through his hair. "Yes, I-I'd love to be her assistant, if she'll have me… Thank you, so much!"

Hiccup waved him off with a smile. "It's nothing, really."

"It's not," Jack insisted, "you practically just gave me my ticket to life – to a job and experience, and uni, and career, and maybe even friends! It means the world to me, I- thank you."

"It really is fine, honestly, it's my pleasure," Hiccup assured grinning. "Gothi would be more than happy. By the way, not that I'm questioning your abilities to make friends or anything, but would you like to meet the rest of my gang? They're a bit weird-"

"Promise?"

The brunet laughed. "Sure, it's the truth anyway. But – fair warning – the weirdness levels rise if we're the only sober ones, which we are." Jack shrugged with a smirk and Hiccup shook his head. "I kind of feel bad for corrupting you… but you'll like them, I think. C'mon." And the two went to the blazing bonfire where Hiccup hollered: "Ruff, stop trying to burn your brother alive and pay me some attention for a sec please! Thanks. So, everyone, meet Jack…"

Much happens at the beach – sand castles, sunbathing, volleyball matches, dish-washing, swimming, splashing, diving, snorkelling, treasure hunting… At night though it's either bonfires or stargazing – even three years later the two activities are incompatible. That is why it was still strange that a lone stargazer was only ten meters away from a big bonfire surrounded by a group of twelve, the majority of whom were dancing to the music they'd brought and yelling out the lyrics.

It was late into the moonless night when a lanky figure with auburn hair and a slight limp left the bonfire and his mildly barbaric friends to sit next to the solitary stargazer. "Seen any shooting stars yet?" he asked the latter, who had long dirty brown hair and a monkey on his shoulder.

"Twenty-three and counting," he replied.

Another intruder from the bonfire sat on his other side, one with a shock of bleached white hair. "Did you wish for something?" he asked, grinning at his friend over the stranger's shoulders.

"No," the man with the monkey replied truthfully, if a bit sadly, "I think it's the stars' job to give hope, not make wishes come true. I don't really believe in fate."

The brunet who came from the bonfire took in the stargazer's single sleeping bag and distinct lack of company, then shared a look with the albino and smiled. "We'll see about that."