Hokay; so yeah; I totally don't mean to leave the end of this chapter like this lol, but I totally stayed up all night doing some none-stop-i-hope-all-this-doesn't-totally-suck-writing….and this chapter is already like twenty pages? Haha which is SO much longer then ANYTHING else I've posted for this story; so I decided to just post it as is now, and then continue onto the next once I've written more.

This chapters a lot of introspection or whatever blahblah; but whenever I do that, I try to add in flashback stuff for you guys so it's not totally blah lol ;p

**OH, and gooood; so yeah

btw

i'm aware that i'm terrible at following totally 'in sync' with the movies plot

so please excuse the fact that there are all these more modern, w/e references

that come up, mostly, in their conversations.

haha like i won't ever actually have them like watch tv...or anything like that

because it just sounds weird; but yeah hopefully its not too offsetting.

I've already referenced other random stuff in other chapters,

but I notice I do it a lot more in this one, flashback wise.

An-ayyy-whooo.

Comment reviews:

Cold Colors: hahah, oh dear; yes, I expected to get some shit for introducing any sort of female presence—but what fun is shameless fanfiction without all the appropriate sexual tension to charge up the good parts? Hahah I'm trying to make her presence as neutral as possible. Eeek. Lol and yeah, I figured this was def. gonna be a WTF chapter (in regards to reactions) lol but I'm glad you could still enjoy it as well! And sowwy this chapter is slower and less drama :(

Blazelight790: Woot! Well if you didn't expect it, then my attempt to go the less traditional route (sort of lol) def. worked! And yes, I know, it was slightly heartbreaking for me—because in my head I was like "AND NOW THEY'RE TOGETHER AND THEY'RE HAPPY AND IN LOVE FOREVERRRR" but then the story would basically be over, which made me sad face lol. But yea, I figured a fight would be a nice change of pace, and that their emotions would be all out of whack anyways; plus I'm bipolar as a mofo, so I love to flipflop. ALSO; I know it doesn't seem too big of a deal, but I appreciate the comment about everyone being in character—because honestly sometimes I'm so bad about bending characters to how I see them, and they stray a tad from how they're 'supposed' to be.—and yeah, I'm in love with cliffhangers; expect way too many…all the time….hahah

Chibiterasu: oh no! *ducks out of the way of flying tables* your poor furniture :[ lol ahh, well I'm sorry to cause you so much frustration; however, I am lovingggg the intense review! Hah, and yeah, I was hoping it would make everyone hate her a little less cause she's not like trying to be a bitch—although I sort of ruin that in this chapter (oopssss). But yeah; I figure there's gotta be some super, unresolved emotional conflict between them; and although I feel bad for our poor, beautiful little dead boy lol…he's just so easy to put into this heartbreakingly heartwarming situations. But yeah; idk exactly, I'm kind of playing with Hiccup's feelings/understandings as I write the story, I kind of feel like that makes it more realistic—because its constantly subject to change and such. For now, I'd say there's clearly a mixture of sexual and emotional attractions that are fucking with them though lol. And ahh sorry for hyping you up to probably put you to sleep with this chapter (jk it's not that bad lol); but the chapter after this will be significantly more on edge and such. And yes lol sorry I am the FARTHEST from the 'happy' anything writer—ahh, but even I can't torture characters for that long—and plus I'd never dream of ending a story unhappily. That would just be sad. Oh and yeahhhh; the cliffhangers are FOREVER hahah

****also; gonna bold this, cause I'm giving you random props, because for some reason I kept thinking about what you wrote about 'the immoral part of his brain' and I hadn't even been thinking about introducing the idea that it was purely sexual lol even though now that I think of it that should've been obvious; oh well—point is—I ended up using the concept randomly in Jack's little narration moments—so thanks!

Animefreakg: thanks! Glad you like how the dialogue played out! It's still def. one of those things that I adore writing back and forth between characters—but since it's so structured off how I have conversations (etc) I'm always nervous it doesn't always come off as 'good' or what not to other people. But yes, I am for more realistic, relatable stuff—and so I'm glad you found it to be so! Also lol thank you for all the little parodies lol they make me smile. Haha and good, I'm glad another reader does not officially hate me for the implication of Astrid; she'll be around for awhile….but we all know what her place will be eventually….Anyways, enjoy the next chapter, again, as I've said to like everybody so far; it's kind of long but not as thrilling I guess? But ohwellz idk I'm too over critical lol

Rahar Moonfire: lol yes, I feel your pain—even as the writer—and even though I get to obviously decide what happens—from time to time I write these scenes and even I'm like WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO; KISS AND MAKE UP! And yeah, they are certainly two headstrong little balls of testosterone—but I do still strongly feel like they're coming from such opposite frames of mind in terms of their r/s and stuff; so I think it's gonna work out nicely the way stuffs going so far. Also; this is a good point—I know I've played around with the idea of Jack like saying something like that to him, but at the same time, part of me is not sure I even want to bring it up conversationally between them…but I'm thinking it might become inevitable.

****also; totally don't know if I indirectly included some element of your comment, in terms of the whole 'what would hiccup say' buuut I do have sort of a reference so such in this chapter, just things Jack is thinking—and it may have been a pre-written excerpt I wrote before, but it may not. SO I'm just going to go ahead and give you props, and give a shout out because I ended up incorporating it into this chapter! So thank you for the review/inspiration!

SPskater411: hahah dude, poor Astrid….if she was real…..she would legit just get like bombarded with rotten vegetables and hard objects everytime she left her house…probably like "whoa what the hell!" haha like has no idea why everyone hates her. Ahh, oh well. But yeah; I'm trying to balance her roll nicely enough so it adds to the story, but doesn't distract from the HiJack too much. And yeah; lol if you'd like to see that jealousy, I think it may appear in a flashback sort of thing that I've been playing around with for awhile lol because I do figured Hiccup should be jealous for once. Cause yeah—holy shit—poor Jack; like is being dead and miserable not enough? Hah NOPE I'm gonna make it worse for him! Anyways; yes; more drama/tension will be more prevalent in chapter 12 for sure, so try not to hate me for chapter 11

KittyBlue: Ahhhhhh; yessssssssss; thank you for enjoying the fact that my plot flip flops indiscernibly from chapter to chapter; because as the writer I obviously know what I'm planning to do with it/where it's going; but I get so bored without throwing twists and drama in, but I'm always so afraid it just completely lacks continuity hah-so woohoo! And I'm terribly sorry that this fic stole hours of precious sleep from you *gasp* I love my sleep! Hahah. And ohhhgooooodnesss gracious, blushing for sure about the comments regarding my writing—because it's def not everyone's cup of tea—but I'm an English major (with awful grammar haha) and I'm like freakishly analytical and so inlove with words and alliteration-you will notice that I use more effing "S" words then should ever be allowed in life, and I insist also on putting them in the same sentence. Lol and yes, yes I'm "wax-poetic" as one of my English teachers always told me; plus poetry is my strong suit; so it makes sense I suppose! And yes; I have a pretty clear idea of where I'm taking the story—as far as guidelines—but as far as the actual chapter to chapter content-things will continue to be unexpectedly developing, as best as I can make them at least. Ayyeee; speaking of not making sense anymore…that is probably what this comment is turning into because I can feel my brain shutting off. BUT; here is the next chapter; yeah, I still feel the need to apologize to everyone for it, cause I'm so on the fence and hope its not too dull. AND; glad I was able to pass along the smut dreams! Everybody should be filled with such wondrous thoughts!

SweetSoul3155: ahh no! I hope your heart is still good! Lol jk haha, butttt oh there will be more; and even more hijacky loveliness coming along in chapter 12; this current chapter was more plot progression and flashbacks/background. But thanks so much for the review! And I hope you continue to enjoy the fic :D

Inapproite-Sales: good, I keep reading your comment over in some weird accent that I know is from a movie haha…sorry none of that was relevant! But thank you so much! I'm glad you like it—especially enough to like it a lot! And thanks for leaving a review! I appreciate the support

FeatherFlight109: damn it! Hahah you're the second reader I've ever had who points out that I do that; sadly as an English major—no I do it intentionally, not as a typo. Sorry if its confusing, idk why I think about it the opposite—like in my brain I'm like oh okay—you have two eyes—so SEVERAL eyes—and I think of 'eyes' as in being plural of eye—but not like plural in terms of SETS of eyes….yeah whoa sorry, sometimes my way of thinking should not be explained haha I just reread that and am hoping now that it does not come off stupid. ANYWAYS; I'll try to keep an eye out for it and keep it under control; although it'll probably pop up still; I hope its not too distracting. Good; and actually the pairing was weird to me at first too—then I fell in llove—then I was unsure again—but I started writing this and I was like "whoa this makes so much weird sense actually" so I can def. relate! Anywho; thanks so much for the review, and the support/feedback! Also; lol I'm glad you like my endless, random, poetic description and that you're open to giving the choppier-back-and-forth style a shot; because I try my best to make it all work lol.

PHEW;

For some reason I feel like I was just doing comment reviews for eighty years

*probably because I insist on writing people novel long responses*

but; HOKAY; as I said

This chapter is longer—but sort of a progressive/plot developing/what not chp.

With some flashbacks and such thrown in.

It's maybe one of my most skeptical so far; probably since it's so much longer I'm afraid somehow it took away from everything.

So ANYWAYS; yeah please review lol; because I love all of you for it

OH AND PS: seeing as how this chapter took a rest from the hijack-heart-attack rush from the last few—CHAPTER TWELVE; shall contain some sort of treat for you all and your patience :D

Don't think I don't think about you guys! Lol

-.-.-

Chapter Eleven.

"To figure this out...to figure us out…"

The series of simple, soft, and such seemingly unspecific words escaped endlessly through Jack's mind long after they'd parted ways. What was he really trying to say? He thought; drawing his features in stubbornly, and framing them unreceptively, figure 'us' out? Jack added inconclusively.

Honestly—what does that even mean?

What did words like "us" stand to represent or emphasize when the term had never been so unclear? How can he say that to me, and then still want to see her so badly? Jack wondered insecurely, unable to emit any confidence under the pressure of such inadequacy. How could he not know? the winter reincarnate continued, never doubting or questioning himself more than he was right now….

A thought popped into his head sadly, echoing in the most unconfident doubt…

Are we really that close tied? He breathed in and out slowly, giving it pause, but found he didn't like the eerie, unanswered silence that followed.

Nothing about any of this was simple.

He was jealous of her; yet, somehow, he couldn't accept the fact of how undeniable it was. Jealous? Me? He thought it over absurdly-never one to wear it all on his sleeve—Jack had long since learned to shadow insecurity in overconfidence. Why should I care just because he likes her? Jack purposely reduced Hiccup's feelings into less then a fraction of what they truly were, and why should I be jealous just because they're probably off making out, alone, in his room, or something? But even hypothetically, the suggestion made all the fingerprints on Jack's skin turn to acid, burning furiously where Hiccup's hands had been, and turning Jack's face a similar shade of bright burgundy and regret.

So what if she's probably seen more of him then I have, he continued, never satisfied with the extent of self-torture, never able to quell this obsession with how offsetting the whole idea of them together really was for him. It doesn't even matter, because neither does she, Jack dismissed ineffectually, but he felt so small—and unstable—and so very unsound amidst the freefall of fantasy and reality that was colliding so effortlessly, and producing such an ever lasting emphasis on how disorienting it was.

Slipping into the sequence, the backwards deconstruction of how he'd overlooked this in the first place, Jack couldn't help but remember back to a few days ago—to when Astrid had called out to Hiccup—and Jack had turned away immediately—too aware to know he would hate whatever he saw; but unaware that their behavior had extended into titles and proof now, such facts that the pallor boy could neither stomach, nor summarize into a simple series of words.

The whole thing was so degrading, and so self-abusive, but it was the only noise of Hiccup's he had left to replay— the only unturned instance that Jack hadn't scarified to their time in the forest—because he'd kept all the words to himself. Rather than admitting he'd never been more wrong, it was so much easier to pretend—pretend this was something that he could just walk away from.

After all, he'd told himself hundreds of times before this that it wasn't Hiccup's fault—that Jack wasn't there—and she was—but the conviction was proving so insincere now that his claims had collapsed against the reality that challenged them—against the fact that this was no longer hypothetical, but an actuality that Jack wasn't prepared to confront.

This was never easy though, he sighed, helplessly surrendering himself to the weight that dragged him down, leaning into his staff when even gravity overpowered his ability to stand beneath the burden of something that he'd been carrying for years. Like the sweetest secret of immeasurable size that had started out so simple, and then snowballed out of symmetry; transforming all Jack's emotions into an intricate mass of inconsistent materials—emotions that he soon lost sight of how to express under such sensitive circumstances.

Things had always been like that with Hiccup though—so unpredictable—so unclear—so boundary bending, and so very, very hard. No, this was nothing new to Jack, and things between them had never been simple.

But then again, I've never came back from the dead before to tell him that I'm in love with him either, Jack indirectly insulted his idiotic and untimely declarations once more—merely to disguise the guilt of complicating what was always so fragile to begin with. He could hardly even stand to hear the things I used to say, he reminded himself, mentally cataloging all the subtle, but suggestive hints he'd dropped in the past. So what made me think all of a sudden he could handle something like that, the mortified youth emphasized conclusively, scarcely able to repeat the details of his confession in their actual form, because part of him still refused to believe it was beyond his powers to expel from memory.

You see—that was the trouble with opening doors; you could never fully close them once you did. There were certain realities you couldn't outrun, and with them came a series of lies and falsehoods that you could no longer remedy the pain of knowing with. Because knowledge was pain—which was why it hurt so damn much for Jack to know about—to know how long he'd really loved her—to know that everything they'd been through wasn't enough—that even after everything, he was still going to lose it all…to her

I guess there's no pretending...He breathed in deeply, or at least tried to, just some sort of motion set at a steady pace, but the rest was coming whether he liked it or not.

The scarcest trails of salt brimmed against his eyelids, and Jack got the most uncertain pain in his stomach—he was going to sleep with her, he formed the thought gradually, and with moderate difficulty, not quite capable of defining what about it bothered him so deeply; but the cognitive compliance was beating restlessly with the shallow, irregular pressure in his chest, and Jack had to close his eyes just to force out the footage that wouldn't stop looping, like endless madness, in every corner of his brain…

"What the hell is that?" Jack heard Astrid demanding, struggling to fit the expression—almost confused in her approach, as if the hickey was somehow misplaced on Hiccup specifically, before growing unavoidably angry. Infuriation trumping shock and disbelief when there was no way for her to simplify the bruise into anything other then exactly what it was—which was not from her.

"And don't you dare say that it's nothing, Hiccup," she shot him down before he had the chance to consider denying it. "Because it's clearly a rather big something," Astrid snapped, her tone of voice implying she'd taken a second to gawk at the not so subtle size of skin that Jack had sucked from flesh colored to broken blood vessels of deep, and widespread purple.

It was big, bold, and as far as Jack was concerned—absolutely brilliant. Both an exchange of affection, and the instillation of a warning—a repercussion that, either way, made acknowledgement as necessary as it was involuntary. Placement was everything, and Jack had secured the most sensitive space—it was too close range to be accidental—too well formed to be brief—and way too intimately positioned to qualify as an impersonal gesture. Instead, the hickey was up close and personal, quite intentional, quite possibility the best he'd ever given before, and without a doubt, the most sensually charged act of sexual frustration.

In theory, one, little, hickey seems harmless enough, but it was almost eerie how easily it overthrew the atmosphere into a deafening silence. For a second, it was almost enough to stir just the tiniest fraction of guilt, but such an outlandish fault was easily refused by unsympathetic ignorance.

Several drawn out sighs, and seven minutes later—Hiccup still hadn't even spoken yet; and Jack could only imagine the idiotically enigmatic expression amplified unnecessarily across the other boy's face, juxtaposing against Astrid in full-on battle-stance, approaching everything aggressively and mistrustfully.

What an idiot, Jack rolled his eyes, still too wrapped up in the rejection to sympathize with his friend just yet, but too stubborn not to be involved in every second of this. I deserve to know, he continued to justify his invasiveness, and just because he doesn't have the balls to tell me, doesn't mean I don't have the right to hear this.

Right? But in truth, this idea had already blurred and turned all shades of grey. He'd given him his word, with fingers crossed, he'd sworn to Hiccup at least a hundred times, that he wouldn't do this—wouldn't follow—wouldn't interfere with their date—But honestly like that was going to stick, Jack rolled his eyes a second time, still hovering outside Hiccup's half-open, bedroom window, unseen—hearing every word as he shamelessly eavesdropped.

In all fairness though, how could he not? How could he possibly honor such a promise, when betraying it was even more effortless? It wasn't like he was trying to be a dick about it—not necessarily; because to be honest, Jack had gone as far as to promise himself that—under no circumstances—would he creep—out of shear spitefulness towards knowing he may never get over what he bore witness to.

However, promises easily made, are just as easily broken, and as far away from Hiccup's as he walked, the curiosity began to overcompensate the consequences, making it near impossible to undersell how truly undying his urge was to know—to know where they stood—to know how serious they'd gotten this time—but above all—to know he'd gotten the satisfaction of watching her fill with the same infuriation she'd caused him when she locked eyes with his not-so-little love bite on her boyfriend's neck.

A mark that Hiccup could never hope to explain, and that simple fact only enhanced the guilty pleasure of watching the uncertainty drive Astrid absolutely mad, smirking as she struggled to sort it all out—too satisfied with knowing she'd receive no sound sense of closure.She deserves that much, he thought selfishly, she deserves to suffer too.

"I mean, good god, Hiccup. Were you trying to be subtle?" She sneered sarcastically, and expertly degraded his already evident lack of skill for evasion at the same time. "Seriously, could it even be any bigger for crying out loud?" He could hear her shuffling and repositioning angrily, "Who even gave it to you, anyways?"

And bingo was his namooo, Jack sang smugly, smiling to himself, and admiring once again how he had created quite the embellishment across Hiccup's neckline, and such an unavoidable source of evidence too.

"Well?" Astrid demanded impatiently, prompting Hiccup when only silence fell. "Who is she?"

And this made Jack laugh, in spite of the immaturity. She? He grinned, feeling ever so slightly more victorious, try he-doll face. And Jack wanted so badly to say it straight to her face, just so he could watch the stupid, dumfound expression sink in and drain all the color in her cheeks—the pure inability to process, not only that Hiccup—the prime paradigm of loyalty and virtue—had cheated on her—but that it was with someone of his own sex—another boy—the ultimate mind fuck— Jack concluded, rather proud of himself for no reason, trying desperately to feed his confidence with false pretences of his level of security with their relationship.

Astrid however, continued on her mission to attack and destroy. "Are you going to answer me at least?" she asked, already knowing he wasn't about to. "Or are you still too busy trying to make up excuses in your head?"

Hmm, at least she isn't stupid, Jack observed, forgetting he had actually once admired her for it—for being the only girl he'd ever known who took charge and no shit from anyone—who carried herself rather then waiting to be swept off her feet—who spat all the evident bullshit back out instead of swallowing it whole. Yes, at one point, Jack could admit he'd found her quite fascinating; but that was before she stopped using her powers for good and began plotting with them evilly—before she'd used them against him, and stolen everything.

Seriously, I might have to kill her,Jack sighed, lacking any and all malice, then faltering back into silence on a lack of conviction; slowly abandoning the idea to turn his attention back to his friend, whose voice finally broke the air.

"I'm not making up excuses," Hiccup dismissed the statement, but ineffectually, in that puppy-dog tone she always provoked—like Hiccup always shrunk away from her with his tail between his legs, "I'm just listening."

"Because you find what I'm saying so amusing, Hiccup?" she questioned, laughing disbelievingly, "Are you serious right now!" And that was the first and only time in his life that Jack had heard Astrid sound so insecure, sinking inconsistently through her otherwise impenetrable defenses. "Do you think this is entertaining?"

"Of course not," Hiccup's voice withdrew realistically, almost reprimanding, as if somehow she should have already known that.

"Well what then, Hiccup. What happened that you so obviously think I'm over-reacting about?"

Nicely played, Jack gave her unintentional props, knowing Hiccup would fall right into it, and all the wrong things to say.

The other boy's voice wavered like a nervous shrug. "Nothing." And although he knew why he had to say it—it still hurt like hell to hear. "It meant absolutely nothing."

Jack cringed.

"Nothing?" she asked, nearing hysterics, "That's really the answer you're going with on this?" Astrid prompted him, almost hopefully, leaving a ten second opening for Hiccup to retract and, or re-submit his response before closing the window of opportunity with an accusatory retort. "Because for something that means 'nothing,'—you sure as hell look pretty fucking guilty to me."

Does he? Jack wondered, becoming the hopeful one this time, wishing he could see their faces, to translate every little expression and all their body language. Overly contemplative, now curious as to what cues Hiccup was giving away—what subtle signs—the kind of things Jack knew how to find, and Astrid didn't even know where to look for.

The tiny fluctuations and drops in speech, the self-directed dilatation and constricting that changed the color in his eyes, and whichever nervous, and or, self-conscious habit Hiccup pulled out of his hat—The behavior that acted like a navigation key on an atlas—giving Jack the proper directions to map out what was really going through the other's mind.

But as of late, the terrain had undergone reconstruction, and the pathways had been re-routed in the reprint of the original version, and Jack was learning there were various shortcuts and hidden tunnels he didn't recognize. Areas of Hiccup that perhaps he didn't know as well as he thought he did, because the other kept changing direction, and Jack was always lost without the fainted sense of it.

"Why should I feel guilty?" Hiccup questioned, uncharacteristically insincere and unforgiving, as if she were being overdramatic instead of well within her rights of redirect. However, in Hiccup's mind—it had just been Jack—just his best-friend—so why should he feel badly about that? He didn't recognize it as anything other then what'd it had always been—an exception to the rules.

"Because you cheated on me," she spat, but the ghost-haired boy heard her voice crack. "How can you just have overlooked that?" she choked, growing angry and spiteful. "Seriously, Hiccup, what's gotten into you all of a sudden? You sound like Jack."

How ironic, the boy thought grinning, up until he heard Hiccup's voice drop, and readjust, suddenly thrown off.

"Why would you say that?" he demanded, his tone dangerously even, warning Astrid that she was walking on thin ice.

"Ohmygod." The most fed up noise extended in her voice as she shattered the sheet, fearing falling through Hiccup no more than you would fear squashing a bug. "Is all this really about Jack," Disbelief filled her voice, "—again?" and irritation overrode the prolonged sympathy of what had evidently become a sore subject. "When are you going to stop living in the past? He's gone, Hiccup."

And at that moment, Jack had never—once in his life—wanted to punch a girl in the face so badly, so hard, and so unremorsefully, as when he heard those words fill the air—almost bursting through the window that was already ajar, and freezing her to death right then and there. What right did she have? Jack's thoughts formed furiously; even if he hadn't just conveniently re-surfaced without her knowledge—what kind of person insults and denounces the memory of the deceased, all in the same sentence, straight to their best-friend's face? Although, it couldn't be helped, that a small part of Jack smiled too, hoping now that perhaps Hiccup hadn't quiet forgotten him to the extent that he first thought.

"Shut the hell up, Astrid!" A scarily forceful intonation escaped Hiccup's mouth, and didn't entertain even an opening for her remarks. "I already told you—Jack is none of your business."

"Really?" she challenged, mustering her strength, "Because I knew him too you know, Hiccup? But I swear it's like you purposely refuse to move on—and now you're going as far as trying to project him onto yourself?" This time Jack peered in long enough to see her gesture to the redhead's neck, "Real classy."

Hiccup's face twisted into a scowl, as offended as if she'd insulted him directly, "He wasn't like that."

"Oh yeah, because I forgot how modest Jack always was," she phrased sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "Give me a break, Hiccup." Then there was an intermediate pause. "Seriously…what's wrong with you today," her voice broke again, giving way to the underlying emotions that not even Astrid could restrain, "The last time I talked to you, you were so…so…you," she stressed. "Now you show up with that, and try shrugging it off like its nothing? Do you even remember what tonight was supposed to be about?"

Then there came the sound of crying, confused, crying that couldn't be clotted.

And as Jack peered in once more, catching the sight of bright, cobalt blue eyes, all drenched in frustrated tears, combine with how Hiccup's eyes began to round and cloud against them so sincerely—suddenly he wondered if perhaps that's all the other boy had seen down in the ravine—if all he'd been looking into were blue eyes that reminded him of her—and suddenly he hated the color more than anything—hated the possibility that any intimacy had stemmed from the catalyst of another person who had truly instilled the desire in the first place.

Hiccup's face had seemed unbearably torn in those few moments though, and couldn't for the life of him seem to muster the courage to respond, finally settling with the silence that seemed to dictate the whole night anyways, and a whole new set of things he couldn't possibly explain to someone.

"You told me you loved me," she strained her voice, "you told me you've never felt this way about anyone before," and if those words hadn't already hurt Jack beyond recoverable belief, the last seven created such a deep fissure in his chest that did the trick. "We said that tonight was the night…"

And that's when Jack left, flying so fast with the wind tearing through his hair and whirling around his body as if he were made from aerodynamic fiberglass, shooting so furiously through the pitch black sky, that he thought for a moment he may never stop— thought for a moment that he'd rather be lost again—lost and alone with no one to blame but himself…

He was going to sleep with her—that's what she'd meant, and Jack couldn't get the idea out of his head long enough to catch his breathe. Hiccup was actually going to have sex with her—on more than just a whim—or the sexually charged frustration of misunderstood feelings—this was something that had been planned. That had been communicated and discussed between them, although Jack couldn't answer the questions as to when and where it had come from, and it bothered him beyond reasonable belief.

After all, he'd paid close enough attention to Hiccup's whereabouts to keep up to date, but he'd always tried purposely to avoid any and all interactions the redhead had with Astrid— however, it just seemed too unlikely that he could have overlooked something as huge as this. How he couldn't have noticed that now they were more than an inconsistent series of on/off open ended explanations—that they were actually dating. This was official; this was real, and way too serious as of just now for Jack's liking.

When had all this happened? The lack of answers was killing him. When had he exhausted his own powers of adjustment over a subject he'd always been able to redirect and distract from? He knew it was never an easy process, but when did it get so hard? Jack sighed, drawing back to a similar scene.

Hiccup was walking up to him, all stupid and starry-eyed; while inconspicuous brown eyes were watching with annoyance, and even greater perplexity towards the bashful, ever-expanding smile that continued to widen and spread simultaneously across the other boy's face.

Stopping in front of Jack, with an almost child-like sense of urgency and delight, Hiccup was beaming proudly. "You'll never guess what happened," he confided in the brunette excitedly, but for once, Jack wasn't so eager to share the news.

"Oh, I don't know," he studied his fingernails disinterestedly. "Did Astrid breathe the same air as you again?" He feigned shock and awe, so sick of the stupid stories that didn't ever mean anything; but Hiccup simply smiled wider—if that we're even possible.

"No," he blushed shyly, so self-consciously that Jack couldn't help but be drawn forward as the other shrank into a smaller smile, and glanced up all soft-spoken, "She kissed me."

not the answer I was expecting…Jack thought slowly, and somehow saddened; emotionlessly engaging Hiccup directly this time, instead of his nail-beds. "And did a chorus of angels come down from the heavens?" he inquired in the most breathy sarcasm, "While all the little woodland creatures gathered around you in song?"

"Hah-hah, very funny," Hiccup rolled his eyes flatly as the sparkle faded almost effortlessly beneath the unreceptive response, "You don't have to be so sarcastic about it, Jack."

The brunette smiled angelically, "And you don't have to be such a little bitch," he widened his eyes in an evidentially accusatory eye roll, and coated his voice in an even thicker sarcasm.

"Oh, shut up," Hiccup waved him off; Jack's comments proving ineffectual, much to his dismay, against the irritatingly obnoxious grin that resurfaced. "Don't be a dick just because you're jealous."

"Yeah," Jack stated outwardly, "I always did fantasize about making out with a girl who's more muscular than I am—" Jack slung a sarcastically flamboyant arm against his hip, "What a turn on!"

Hiccup tipped his head observantly, running emerald eyes around the tighter black shirt outlining the brunette's abdomen. "So, by more muscular than you—you mean, not at all?" he inquired with a mischievous smile.

"Look who's talking Douche-Bo-Baggins," Jack redirected playfully, before taking on a continuously light hearted tone, accompanied by the characteristic narrowing of his eyes. "Besides," he protested, "I'll have you know that I've got a lot of muscles," Jack winked, "And none of them are very small."

"Bahh-bumm-chhhh," the redhead mimicked the motion of drums, proceeding as he steadied the imaginary cymbal. "Eh—" he posed doubtfully, allowing his green eyes to slip into another emphasized double-take, "Well, you're overcompensating just a little, aren't you now?"

"Ouch," Jack held his chest. "Way to take a cheap shot."

"Well," Hiccup began to pose playfully, seeming to have abandoned all thoughts of Astrid at this point, as Jack watched him construct the sentence flawlessly in his head before releasing it innocently, with a smile Jack had never seen before, "I thought we were speaking strictly below the belt?"

God damn it, Jack groaned inwardly in aggravation, even more turned on by the memory than he had been by the central focus of "sex" in the first place—and almost even more aroused at how he'd noticed something in the pastime that hadn't been there before. How a few years ago—it would have been considered completely normal, with no ulterior implications whatsoever; but now looking back on it, Jack couldn't help but place that quirky, unfamiliar smirk next to the one Hiccup had displayed, in a rather perfected version, just a few hours ago. Feeling his stomach muscles tighten and compress, fluttering just enough to make him shiver when he realized they were identical.

Although no matter how shamelessly he could've shirked into the guilty pleasure of indulging on such open-ended fantasies, Jack couldn't seem to shake the skeptical feeling that all that had transposed between them back in the ravine had been insincere. That all Hiccup had seen was a boy he'd known forever, who's new bright blue eyes and ghost-white hair had reminded him so much of someone else…

After all, it makes perfect sense. Jack rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly, doesn't it? He was already planning to fuck her, icy eyes narrowed and phrased the act crudely to devoid it of significance, so maybe he was just too wound up to wait…Jack sighed, wishing it made more and less sense at the same time, knowing you didn't just interchange your preferences from women to men at your own sexual convenience; but then inconclusively contradicted the statement with the fact that he himself had sprouted such a similar impulse, unpredictably, towards a certain emerald-eyed boy that had become far from dismissive.

Gripping his staff tightly, willing the snow to fall in place of the emotions he'd exhausted himself beyond expressing, Jack let the fragile flakes encase him in a calming contrast; continuing to clench the intricate, wooden structure more vulnerably as it became invariably saddening that he couldn't even remember when things had started to change between them anymore.

How did we go from best-friends to this? He wondered with a long-winded sigh.

It seemed like so long ago, and it seemed like it'd all happened so fast that it started to upset him how unsure he really was of it. How uncertainly he attempted to obtain the legitimacy of Hiccup's feelings, or lack there of.

The idea, in general, was hard enough to admit even to himself, and the possibility that his friend may never return his feelings continuously crashed and broke off still-frames of Astrid. Every time he got this much close to convincing himself it had to mean more, the more prominently her shade weighed in upon them to remind him she'd come first—that she'd still meant more.

However, even when Jack swallowed his pride, in attempts to stomach that there was an equally able possibility it meant absolutely nothing—she was still there in the back of Jack's mind, laughing and smirking, while she shook her head realistically, asking, "Well, what else did you really expect?"

As if it was common knowledge that Jack was a substandard, waste of time, who no one should take seriously. She'd insinuated so enough earlier, from what he'd overheard, and the boy grew increasingly restless as the sky began producing a surplus.

It was just too much and there were too many loose ends that Jack had lost sight of which to tie together, and which to cut loose. Or which suspicions to let die and which concerns to rightfully harbor. But he was losing the arguments against himself, and finally forced his focus away from his own thoughts for awhile—they're terribly one sided, he sighed despondently, beginning to ball up a fist of snow in his hands.

"Have I ever told you what a terrible artist you are?" Hiccup asked, encircling the snowman with scrutiny, "this doesn't even look like me a little bit."

"Hey, Hiccup," Jack interrupted from somewhere on the ground, where he sat smoothing out the curves of his creation. "Remember what happened after Hitler got rejected from art school?"

"Ugh, yeah…I remember hearing about it in class," he stated confusedly, as his eyes found Jack with a where-the-hell-are-you-going-with-this spiral of features. "Why?"

"Because," Jack pushed himself to his feet, "You're about to be on the receiving end of that rejection letter if you don't back off my masterpiece in a second."

"Woww," Hiccup extended his sarcasm extra sarcastically, while shaking his head in vicarious embarrassment. "Did you seriously just make a joke about repeating the Holocaust?" he stared blankly.

Jack rolled his eyes at the level of literal understanding he couldn't always breach, and began to gesture figuratively as his hands rose and fell with the implications in his voice. "Oh, 'cause I was really serious about reenacting mass genocide," the brunette feigned, "I mean 'Heil Hitler—they sure got it right," he snapped his fingers in conclusion, "What a stand up citizen he turned out to be!"

Hiccup sent a sloppy snowball at Jack's head as he was finishing, "Must you always be so sarcastic?" he eyes the other annoyed.

"Depends," Jack offered, "If I stop then will you stop being the Factual Fuhrer?"

"You know, Jack," Hiccup's face mirrored a slight disturbance, "I'm starting to wonder if you don't have some demented man crush on one of history's most disturbing dictators."

"Man-crush?" Jack burst with offense, before catching the joke, and playing along. "Clearly, you don't know my type at all," he shook his head in mock-disappointment. "I mean—Adolf?" his hand wavered as if to weigh the thought, "Eh—not my first choice—Now Mussolini," both arms pulled overhead in a stretch, "Gimmy-some-ah-that!"

Hiccup grinned at Jack's antics, which were over-dramatic and taken way too far as usual. "You're seriously going to hell, I hope you know that."

"Well, I'd certainly hope so," Jack looked over his shoulder, "I made the reservations like forever ago."

"You would," Hiccup rolled his eyes, "You would."

"Don't go trying to make me feel bad for planning in advance."

Hiccup's eyes fell over Jack's in that conflicting sort of constricting though, the way he always did when there was something else he was obviously refocusing around; carefully dissecting the thought as a ring of green continued eclipsing unevenly with the expansion, and lack here of, of black—introspectively debating whether or not to voice his distraction, or keep it unraveling and reconstructing in his own head.

It didn't take Jack long to catch onto the look encasing him thoughtfully, or the playful atmosphere that had fallen into Hiccup's unflinching seriousness; the kind of stare that caused Jack to sigh knowingly, and abandon all notions of derision. "Okay, Hic, what is it this time?"

"Oh—I don't know," the auburn haired boy stumbled, suddenly embarrassed at being placed in the center of attention. "I was just thinking that's all."

"Yeah—way too much—about whatever I last said," Jack summarized with accuracy. "I'm not Astrid here," he slipped in, not fully grasping why it developed spitefully, "I actually recognize when you start doing all your awkward, Hiccup-isms."

"Hiccupisms?" the other cracked a smile, "Did you just think of that now?"

Jack shrugged, "Yeah, I can turn a mean phrase," he waved off dismissively, "but did you honestly think I'd let you get away with changing the subject?"

"No, not honestly," Hiccup sighed, while transitioning into a groan-like protest, "but I hate when you call me out like that."

"Well," Jack stated in all fairness, "I'm not too crazy about you staring at me for ten minutes at a time—ever think of that?"

And then to the brunette's surprise, and slight confusion, the bridge of Hiccup's nose took on the faintest emergence of color.

"I'm not staring at you," the smaller boy corrected Jack with a certain, unnecessary force that gave him pause. "I told you, I'm thinking, stupid."

"Stupid?" Jack asked, suddenly wondering if he'd said something to offend the other.

"Just drop it," his intonation fluctuated between discomfited and dismissive as the color rose in his face when anxious emerald eyes noticed Jack approaching.

However, the inconsistent pitch, as well as the unfamiliar phenomenon of seeing Hiccup burn up in the face over anything that wasn't Astrid or mortifyingly embarrassing, had been more than enough reason for Jack to disengage the distance.

"Are you alright?" he scratched behind his ear, growing slightly fidgety when he felt the other's eyes lift from the ground, along the length of his body, and then struggle to look Jack in the eyes.

However, no more then a second after the taller boy began to reach gingerly out towards his shoulder, did Hiccup slip backward with a rushed, and insincere excuse of having to be somewhere else; before awkwardly and practically running back in the direction of home.

Jack simply stood there—blankly—unsure—and with the strangest heart beat that he could feel in his stomach instead of his chest. What a tweak,he stressed to himself, trying to fathom how their conversation had faltered and then fallen apart so directionless. Was it something I said? He asked himself, almost bringing his shoulders into an unsure shrug, as if Hiccup were still across from him, and Jack were asking it aloud.

He couldn't trace the conversation back to any sensible trigger, no more then he could dissuade the curious combination of nerves and concern washing over him all at once. Hiccup may have certainly been a little shy, Jack knew that, and even prone to be a little jumpy when ill-at ease, but it's just not like him to run off like that. Jack frowned, unsure of what to make of the unfamiliarly flushed face that disappeared as the back of the redhead's shirt faded into the distance.

The visual was transposing with the rest though, and creating an unfamiliar tension that offset chocolate, brown eyes; disrupting the precedent that lacked the experience to deal with this. I mean, he'd known Hiccup nearly all his life, so it wasn't like he'd never seen him act like that before; but it was the first and only time that the reaction had been directed towards Jack.

And he had no idea where it came from, and was even less certain what it implied; but it left him nervously voicing his thoughts aloud, turning towards the snowman, shaped in the smaller boy's likeness with a sigh.

"Something I should know about?"

Shaking the images, but not the uncertainty, Jack stared at the current recreation beneath his cold, clammy hands. The imagery had developed more accurately over time, and Jack's recent, natural skill with snow almost brought the likeness of Hiccup to life, but it was still an empty attempt to substitute the loneliness with something that wasn't really there. Something that would never make a sound, and suddenly Jack was craving such a noise—his eardrums growing drunk off the expression of Hiccup's voice that he'd only now realized he'd gone hours already without.

Scolding himself anxiously, as the proximity between his footfalls got increasingly closer to Hiccup's house, Jack couldn't help but notice that he was ten times more nervous then when he'd waited for his friend to finally see him. Instead, this was a different sort of anxiousness—an unplanned—and unpredictable sort of movement that pulled him forward, despite the fact he had no idea what he was going to say.

This whole "excursion"—in its entirety, had been an act of both desperation and spontaneity; lacking all concept of structure and direction. A thousand things circulated in his head as Jack over speculated each of them until they lost the importance of vocalizing; soon finding himself stuck with the simple question of how he was supposed to even go about entering the Haddock residence now that he was no longer undetected.

In theory, it was such a miniscule, little detail—a seemingly inconsequential inconsistency, but Jack had allowed it to spiral, branching unpredictably in a hundred different directions. Bouncing back and forth between whether or not he may walk in to find Astrid with Hiccup (or even worse—in bed with Hiccup)—and how exactly he'd explain himself when it became unspoken, but presented that Jack lacked all hesitance towards simply inviting himself inside—like he did it all the time—because he did do it all the time…

His lips wavered reflectively as the routine seemed less like a normalcy, and more like a creepily, invasive gesture; not to mention a deliberate violation of privacy and personal space. Several things Jack knew his friend was very particular about; the realization rendering his limbs paralyzed with an inability to proceed when Hiccup's reaction became increasingly hard to pin-point or predict—leaving Jack in a nervous bout of conflict with himself.

How would the other react to the knowledge that Jack had been there the whole time? How "normal" would he think all of this was when he'd never know for certain, without asking for a complete memory-log, all the actual things Jack had witnessed without his awareness or consent? He'd never really stopped to consider before—how personal of a space a bedroom is—how intimate and exposing—or how thoughtlessly he'd just come and gone as he pleased.

Jack sighed, staring more uncertainly at the back door than ever. It's not like he'd ever intentionally seen anything he shouldn't have—or watched Hiccup undress or anything weird like that; but does it really matter? He thought retrospectively, and felt no more assured when he realized that only the other boy could truly answer that—an answer that could either embolden him, or shoot him down in a single series of opposing extremes in opinion.

Stepping backward, Jack gripped both hands awkwardly around his staff, positioning the object between himself and the house as if to hide behind it—as if to disappear once again behind the force-field that refused to revoke the clause of object permanence he'd granted Hiccup.

Grumbling and muttering incoherently, Jack began a prolonging pacing around the yard, consistent with the figure-eight of footprints beneath his own, tracing the symmetry with endless repetitions while the chambers of his heart created cardiac collisions, and struggled to circulate any warmth-any feeling-towards the actions he'd just a day ago, been under the impression, were kind and loving.

Now, however, he was clotting with this overwhelming and unexplainable sense of guilt as it swam through depths of embarrassment, and then solidified into inadequacy and disgust—his train of thought derailing and losing all fluid motion as Jack attempted to secure the wheels on some attuned type of track; some progressive counterpart that matched the unique energy that had driven Jack in the past—some simple connection that established the logic was still compatible on a functional level outside of his own convoluted brain.

Nothing helped though—it's not like this would become easily avoidable once they were together—because there were only a very few, select things bound to come up in conversation; and this was beyond a doubt, one of them.

Jack's whole face burned, heated at the eventual and perceivably unpredictable inevitability—but how—how could he ever possibly tell Hiccup that'd he'd spent almost more then half of his time, over the course of three years, following at his heals—when merely confessing he loved him had put the shyer boy on edge?

How could he ever convey, non-creepily, that he'd spent hours just watching him sleep, just to be near him? Jack posed realistically, as all the specificity caused the innocence to translate into to-catch-a-predator-like and stalkerish in his mind now.

Like, what is this anyways? Jack thought contrastingly, with revulsion in his features—fucking, Twilight?

Was he supposed to be the socially awkward, sparkling, immortal creeper who patrolled around the object of his affection as they slept!?

"Oh god," Jack groaned, draining into an even ghostlier shade of white than he already was to begin with. "Calling Team Edward—go fuck yourself," he cursed so unpleasantly, and forcefully, unable to deny how accurately his sarcastic commentary turned satirical and scarily identifiable.

Although, sparking just a bit of lost confidence, in the immature depth of Jack's brain, all he could do was picture Astrid as the other one—the psycho wolf one with roid-rage, Jack specified to himself when the name escaped him, unable to stop laughing inwardly to himself in such a cocky, confident slight—hahah—I win bitch!

Promptly after the thought's formulation, the inward laughter trailed away, "Anddd now you're really taking this too far," he sighed helplessly.

"…are you…standing outside my house…talking about, Twilight…?" Hiccup was leaning in the doorway, half amused half emotionally disturbed, "All by yourself, at eleven o'clock at night?"

Within a heart beat, Jack went from white to blood red, trying not to vocally acknowledge that he had indeed said some of those things aloud.

The other boy's grin grew at the evident lack of willingness to contribute, coaxing on chidingly, "I do believe I heard a 'Team Edward' in there," he stepped out from the doorway, and made his way over to the other. "How dedicated of you to pick sides, Jack."

"I was speaking figuratively," the pallor boy muttered, "I didn't know you could hear me."

"Well you did pick a pretty crappy place to try and avoid me," Hiccup rationalized, "I've been watching you for like ten whole minutes."

Spheres of aquamarine fell into cold palms as Jack buried his face out of sight, hoping both to conceal and thaw the coloration. "Just when I thought the world couldn't be anymore cruel!" Jack exclaimed in a complaining outburst, combing his already offsetting logic with the idea Hiccup had watched him pace like a crazy, pulling his face into all sorts of unflattering self-speculative faces, and occasionally drawing verbal connections to—literally the most unforgivably embarrassing movie a teenage boy could ever compare their life to.

"Well…at least you're here now," Hiccup cleared his throat, and spoke up, turning halfway awkward and halfway shy at the intentional shift in conversation, abandoning a more playful discourse for the immediate introduction of a more personal atmosphere.

For a second, Jack forgot about the rest, and was too wrapped up in how edible and adorable the other looked a few feet away that brought the angle of his smile up into a genuine degree. "So, you going to invite me inside?" he asked softly, evoking an even shyer sound in response.

"I thought it was implied."

-.-.-.-

sorry...i'm such a dick for ending it like this

i'm just lazy lol and already wrote too much

HOWEVER;

pwees review anyways

AND REMEMBER;

I am treating you to SOMETHING deliciously HiJack in the next chapter,

not sure what nec. but i'll think of something :)