Author's note: Okay all you TFIOS fans out there! If you love Hicstrid this is the story for you! While I was sitting around after publishing a chapter for my other story, I was thinking about my beloved fandoms. Then I realized, a lot of the guy characters that we all love have one leg. Peeta Mellark, Augustus Waters, even Hiccup! Then I thought wait a second, Augustus Waters, Hiccup Haddock, both are intelligent, attractive, and charismatic idea! DING DING DING! Fangirl squeal! I do NOT own TFIOS OR HTTYD, they belong to their owners and you know who they are! ENJOY! PLEASE REVIEW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE OR NOT!

I am NOT depressed, Astrid Hofferson thought to herself angrily as she sat in the car with her mother driving. Just because I sit around all day, reading the same book over and over, and watch reality shows does not mean anything. They are not therapists, they're oncologists. They don't even have cancer themselves, so what right do they have to deem depression as a side effect I am supposedly experiencing? And besides, depression is not a side effect from cancer, it's a side effect from dying.

Name. Age. Diagnosis.

Astrid Skye Hofferson. 16. Thyroid originally, but with a breathtaking (literally) and long settled satellite colony in her lungs. How was she doing? Other than the fact she was dying and everyone had diagnosed with depression as well? She was fine.

Of course, her mother took the doctor's word for it and signed Astrid up for the dreaded support group. The doctor said it would be good for Astrid to be around people who "were on the same journey", which was ridiculous and idiotic. Everyone's journey could end anytime, anywhere. The support group, took place in the basement of the church. The basement was shaped like a cross in the smack middle of the church. In the literal heart of Thor.

The support group leader, Bjorn, was someone Astrid more or less disliked. It was more accurate to say she was annoyed and immune to his pointless efforts to talk about the heart of Thor and how they cancer survivors were sacred and whatever.

She tried to get out of going to support group, but her mother insisted. Going on saying that Astrid was a teenager and she need to get out, make friends and live her life. Or whatever's left of it, Astrid added mentally to herself. And if she really wanted to be a teenager, she should get a fake ID and go to clubs and take pot, which she learned that you don't 'take' pot. She would've known that with a fake ID. But Astrid eventually conformed. Not because she saw it her parents way that it was somehow good for her, but for the same reason she did anything, to make her parents happy.

Much too soon, her mother pulled into the church parking lot and stopped in front of the church to let Astrid get out.

"Do you want me to carry it in for you?" Her mother questioned as soon as she saw Astrid pick up her oxygen tank.

"No I got it." Astrid responded firmly. Because her lungs suck at being lungs, she was forced to carry around a little blue oxygen tank. It had a little steel cart to wheel behind her. Throughout day and night it delivered oxygen to her through a cannula that wrapped behind her ears and reunited at her nostrils. It was essential for her very survival, so she got over how it looked a long time ago. Carrying her oxygen tank on her own, she made her way towards the door of the church.

"I love you. Make some friends!" Her mother called through the window as Astrid walked away. Astrid gritted her teeth and gave her mother a smile as she went through the door.

After taking the stairs down to the basement of the church, Astrid grabbed a cookie and some juice from the snack table and scanned the room for a seat. It was then that she noticed a boy she had not seen at support group before. He was wearing worn jeans and a hunter green t shirt with a dark brown leather jacket, slouching in his chair with a smile. He was tall, lean, had somewhat messy auburn hair, and intriguing forest green eyes.

And he was staring at her.