A/N: I actually kept a promise on when I would update! I'm kinda proud of myself...

More edits to this story are happening! I know, I really don't seem like I have my shit together, and that's 'cause, well, I don't. So, anyway, I'm going have Hiccup having to go the doctor and the fight at school and every chapter that's happened after the chapter 'Tryouts' to take place about two weeks after that chapter, just so Astrid and Hiccup will have known each other for a bit of a longer time. I'll edit that in sometime in the next few days.

I'm trying to give Astrid's POVs a different writing style than Hiccup's. I don't know how it'll work out, my writing style is all over the place anyway, maybe I shouldn't meddle too much...

Lots of exposition here ↓

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Astrid's POV

I walked away from the Haddock residence with my face burning and my stomach fluttering.

Did I really just kiss Hiccup Haddock?

Even though I had only known him for barely three weeks, I had heard plenty about him from other people ever since I brought him to Ruff and Tuff's party. Most of it was just 'Oh, Astrid, that Hiccup kid is weird, why are you hanging around him?' or simply 'Why the fuck are you friends with him?'

There really is a hierarchy to high school, no matter what people say about all of that stereotypical stuff fading out. Maybe not so much a hierarchy, but a spectrum. And Hiccup and I were far away on that spectrum, with me being closer to the top and him definitely below.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be a pretentious asshole. I know I've seemed like one in the past, especially during freshman year. I'm not going to lie, I did enjoy the attention I got after I lead the Senior volleyball team to winning State. And since girls' volleyball was the only team in our school that made it that far in any conference, I was known especially well. And I didn't just like it because I was in the newspaper and once or twice got to give a statement to a reporter, but other girls on the team — even the ones older than me — and on other teams admired and looked up to me. I was respected as a leader, and that feeling may have been one of the best I've ever experienced.

Unfortunately, though, there's always a curse to a gift. This next year, I was again chosen to be captain, and although I was excited to lead the team again, I was feeling a lot of pressure. I was determined to get just as far we did last year, but I felt like if we didn't, it would all be my fault.

I did work insanely hard the previous year during the season, going home after practices and practicing two hours extra in my backyard, analyzing the other teams techniques and strategies, sometimes going to the games of two teams that we would be facing later, just to try and be prepared. I was also spending all my free time studying because my parents were expecting me to get all A's.

Unfortunately, though, geometry that year required much more time than I had, and I got a B- for the first quarter of the year. Volleyball only lasted until the end of that quarter of the school year, though, so my grade was better the rest of the year. However, since I didn't understand a few things that I hadn't spent enough, I was still a little behind, which I hated. For the second semester, I got an A-, but in the first one, I averaged a B+, which eliminated my ambition of getting all A's in high school, and my parents' expectations as well. My mom was especially disappointed, so she actually called the school's guidance counselor and told her to find me a tutor. And that's how I met Hiccup.

I really was doing just fine in math, I had a ninety-seven percent, and I probably didn't even need his help after the first session. I kept with it, though, because 1. my mom wouldn't have let me stop that soon, anyway, and 2. I sort of... enjoyed spending time with Hiccup. I know this sounds incredibly corny, but I got a good (for lack of a better word) vibe from him. I'd never spent time with someone like him before, and it was a fresh, soothing break.

It was quite a nice change from my basketball-playing boyfriend in the second semester of ninth grade. And the guy I went on a couple dates with this past summer at Ruff's insistence. She changed her opinion on him when he tried to feel me up in the front seat of his car, while Ruff and Heather were in the back.

Anyway, I was done with it, the bullshit of people who flip-flopped between being my friends and being dicks. For example, Heather. When I met her, I didn't trust her at all. She had stolen my math notes and used them on an open-notes test while I was left with nothing to use. After she'd talked to me for a little while, I'd felt kind of bad for her (she was a new student and didn't really know anybody). Ruff and I brought her in, in a sense, but even though we were a trio of friends, there were times where Ruff and I got sick of her. She could sometimes be nice and consoling, and then she'd be a total bitch. I was glad that I had cut her off after the Thorstons' party, I felt freer. In hindsight, slapping her in the face was maybe a little over-the-top, but oh, well.

Unfortunately, Heather had a lot of connections from years of flirting, so she got a lot of my not-as-close-as-Ruff friends to abandon me and stay with her. Thankfully, she didn't know the girls from volleyball, so they didn't go against me, and my team remained united.

I actually found that I didn't really care what my old friends thought of me. The way I viewed it, I now knew who I shouldn't have even been friends with in the first place. I liked my new group: Ruff, Fishlegs, Hiccup, and occasionally Tuffnut (although he was still hanging out with Snotlout a lot, who was dating Heather).

It's very complicated.

But, I guess, looking back on it all, things weren't as complicated as they were about to become.

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I walked through the back door into my kitchen, where my parents were at the table, my mom on her laptop and my dad going through work papers. They both looked up when I came, reading glasses perched on their noses making them look like a pair of startled bugs.

"Astrid," my mom greeted, "how was your bike ride?"

I shrugged, still walking across the kitchen towards the stairs. "Okay, it's starting to colder out, I should've worn a jacket," I said, keeping my response vague and to the early October weather. I wasn't going to say anything about seeing Hiccup, let alone kissing him. All my parents really knew about him was that he was my tutor, and if they knew that we, uh... liked each other they would probably want to interrogate him and/or would never let me be alone with him during appointments. It was kind of ridiculous, how suspicious they were of my friends, but then they didn't even know how rebellious Ruff was. I was good at deceiving people.

"Where are you going?" asked my dad, eyes flicking between his papers and me.

I jerked my thumb towards the stairway. "Upstairs to get my volleyball. I'm gonna practice outside a little before I go to bed," I explained, then took a few steps more.

"Wait," my mom stopped me and I turned back. She pursed her lips. "Is your homework done?"

"Yeah, I always have it done, like, before five o'clock every day."

She closed-lipped smiled at me. "That's great. I'm glad you're doing better this year."

At least she wasn't making me show the finished lesson to her. That had been a new development this school year, she had been making me prove to her that I was done.

She went back to tapping away at her computer and I climbed away up the stairs two at a time. Before I could get to my room, I was interrupted by my two brothers barreling down the hallway and I had to press myself against the wall to avoid being trampled. They giggled as they stomped down the stairs, spinning in different directions to shoot each other with Nerf guns. Ah, to be eight again.

I disappeared into the bathroom junction that lead to my room just after hearing my dad's voice saying, "Pick those foam pieces up when your done, boys!"

I rolled my volleyball out from under my bed, the one my parents bought me for Christmas last year, and went back downstairs and out the door, shutting it a split second after my mom's, "Don't stay out there for too long!"

I pulled my phone and earbuds out from my pocket as I walked over to our stone garage. I put the headphones into my ears and spiked the ball against the wall, letting it bounce back to me and catching it. I didn't play any music, though, I never listened to songs while practicing, it distracted me too much from full focus on my technique.

Except I guess I was breaking the rule of no distraction that night by calling Ruff and using the microphone of the earbuds to talk. I hit the ball against the side of the garage as it rang.

Spike... Spike... Serve... Set, set, set... Bump... Spike... Bump... Bump... I tried to hit the same spot each time.

"Astrid!" Chortled the telephoned-voice of Ruff Thorston, slightly out of breath. "How goes it?"

"Hey, Ruff," I responded, performing a less than perfect bump and furrowing my brow in concentration of both the ball and what I was going to say.

"Practicing?" she asked, recognizing the sound of leather on stone from the times she had seen me practice or heard me when I made phone calls like this one.

"Yeah," I said, setting the ball in place, "Why are you out of breath?"

"I was doing the same as you, but probably not as intense." She was probably smirking.

Ruff and I were both hard practicers of our sports, my volleyball and her lacrosse, except she was a bit less religious at it than I was. She was trying harder this year, though, she had made it onto the varsity team, but I still out-worked her by miles.

"Um, anyway, I gotta tell you some stuff." I bit my lip uncertainly, unsure how Ruff would react. It wasn't like I really cared what she thought, and I wasn't desperate for approval or anything, I was just... curious for an opinion from one of the people I trusted the most.

"Lay it on me, my sister from another mister."

Set, bump.

"So, I went for a bike ride tonight, and I saw Hiccup."

"Oh, is he okay? Fish has been asking me about him."

"Why doesn't he just text him himself?"

"You know him, he's so fucking nice he wouldn't dare get into someone's personal business."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I commented.

"No— I don't... just, get on with what you were gonna say." I could almost hear her blushing. Ruff never blushed.

I sighed. "So, Hiccup was walking his dogs, and I, like... he invited me to walk with him, so I did. He went to the doctor, and all he told me was that his doctor just said he was sleep deprived and I guess that's why he fainted that one time and he always looks so tired."

"Than that's good, right? He not injured or anything."

I spun the ball around in my hands for a moment. "Yeah, but, I don't know, it seemed like he was hiding something and there was something more." Spike... Bump... Bump.

"Since when do you care so much about what people do?" she scoffed.

"It was just weird." I paused, considering telling Ruff about seeing Hiccup's bone-thin chest in the nurse's office. "Um..." Fuck it, I want someone's opinion. The thought shocked me, because usually the only opinions I cared about were my own, or maybe my coach's. "When Hiccup got beat up by Dagur, I went to the nurse's with him."

"Yeah, you told me."

"So, um, when the nurse checked to see if his ribs were fractured or anything, I saw his chest—"

"God, Astrid, is this going to turn into an over-long description of his hot-only-to-you chest?"

"Shut up, Ruff," I snapped.

"Sorry," her tone sobered.

I sighed. "Anyway... he's— he's really skinny, Ruff. I mean, like, he's looks like a skinny kid anyway, but... Under his clothes he looks really, really thin. I could count his ribs 'cause they stood out so much, and his hipbones are really stuck out. He doesn't look like just some late bloomer or scrawny nerd, he looks... sick or something." I wasn't even hitting the volleyball anymore, just staring at the garage wall as I talked. "I think he's underweight, definitely less weight than me," I finished quietly.

My best friend was silent for a moment. "So... what do you think?"

I spiked the ball forcefully. "I don't know, I'm kinda asking you."

"Well, is he sick? Maybe he has cancer or something..."

I shook my head, even though it was a phone call and she couldn't see me. "No, we'd probably know if he had cancer, and he probably wouldn't be in school if he had a disease like that."

"So, maybe it's genetic."

"Have you seen his parents? They both look they could've been pro basketball players," I snorted, but nervously, because it did puzzle me, how two tall fit people had someone as small as Hiccup.

"Maybe it's recessive or something. Or he'll hit a late growth-spurt."

"I told you," I said, "He doesn't look like a late-growth-spurt kind of person. He looks like... a doesn't-eat-enough person," my worried thought fell off my tongue, and I feared that I shouldn't have said it.

"Don't jump to the conclusion that he's some sort of fucked-up eater. He could still have some kind of medical-thingy."

I rolled my shoulders. "Yeah, I— I shouldn't have said that. It's— it could be some... condition he's always had, and maybe I'm just noticing because I'm spending time with him," I rethought my worries, but they were still there, because it would suck for him if he actually did have an illness that made him look like skin and bones. Bones, like a skeleton.

"I could ask Fish," said Ruff curiously, "He's known Hiccup for a long-ass time, right? Maybe he knows."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Yeah, okay. Just don't ask it really directly, I don't wanna get into Hiccup's personal stuff that he doesn't want me to know or anything—"

"Jesus, Hofferson," interjected Ruff, "You're caring about shoving your nose places? What the hell has happened to you?"

I could tell she was joking around to try and lighten the mood, but it struck me like an ice cube sliding down my shirt against my skin, and I answered, "I've grown up... more. What about you, you're all different now, too, what's your excuse."

She responded quietly, "Same as you, I guess."

Serve... Bump... Bump... Bump, bump... Spike.

"There's something else," I said, moving onto to the other thing I had intended to tell her.

"What?"

"So, I went on a walk with Hiccup."

"Uh-huh."

"And we stopped in front of his house and said goodnight and stuff."

"Uh-huh."

"I— we were just kinda standing there, holding the dogs' leashes, and he was being all awkward, y'know, like Hiccup, and he was stuttering and complimenting me and stuff, and... I don't know, I just... so, I don't know if I should have done this, I kinda just jumped forward at him, and— uh, put my mouth on his mouth." Holy crap, I thought, maybe that kid's goddamn stammering is contagious.

On the other end of the call, Ruff snorted out a laugh that sounded like a choking pig.

I pursed my lips. "I see that it amuses you," I said sardonically.

"Ha! You made out with him!"

"I did not make out with him! We just kissed, that's all," I defended.

"How long?" she asked, still bemused.

I made a frustrated noise in the back of throat. "Ugh... um, ten— seconds, maybe twelve," I admitted.

"Let me guess, he passed out from the shock of his first touch from the opposite gender," she cackled, all seriousness from before apparently lost.

"Ruff, please, shut up," I sighed, shaking my head in annoyance.

"How was it?" she asked, cruelly curious.

"It was— well, he was kind of freaked out at first, but then he sort of got into it and, he wasn't all that bad."

"How far did it go? Any groping?"

"God, Ruff, no. What the hell's the matter with you?" I gagged. "We just kissed, that's all," I repeated.

"Not even any Frenching?"

"No, no tongue." I hadn't even thought of slipping in tongue with Hiccup, he'd looked so shocked already I'd felt like if I'd done even more he would've had a heart attack. I had actually been able to feel his pulse through his wrist when I gave Skullcrusher's leash back to him, and his heart had been going crazy fast. It had been really jumpy, too...

"I'm so disappointed, Astrid," she said, mocking crestfallen.

"Hey, there was a little open-mouthness," I defended. "And also, I thought you hated all that stuff, men taking over women and getting all over them the first time they kiss," I said, remembering when she basically broke with Caleb (my basketball-playing boyfriend from ninth-grade) for me when he tried to do that to me.

"Oh, yeah, I hate it when guys do that. However, when women get to do it to them..." she trailed off, and I could tell she was probably bearing a jaunty smile.

I sighed. Unfortunately, Ruff did like to do that —she was more confident and secure in her body than anyone I knew— but it sometimes backfired and left her feeling like shit.

"Anyway," I said, "I just... He's easy to be around, and I really like him—"

"Obviously."

"—and I just hope he's okay, and nothing's wrong with him."

Ruff was silent for a moment. "I'll text Fish right now and I can tell you what he says."

"Okay, thanks," I said, then I rethought. "Actually, wait, don't."

"Why?"

"I— I just think it would be better if I asked him. Tomorrow."

"Hiccup?"

"No, Fishlegs. I'll ask him about Hiccup tomorrow, in person."

"Oh, okay. Hey, is Hic coming to your game Saturday night?"

"Uh," I bit my lip uncertainly. I had avoided asking Hiccup to either of my volleyball games this year, and he didn't complain or anything, he just wished me good luck before each one and congratulated me on winning after. "I haven't asked him."

"Ashamed of him or something?"

"No, of course not. I... I'm gonna ask him to come, I am."

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Friday, October 3

I stepped out of the shower at 6:45, toweling my hair and studying myself in the mirror. The abs across my stomach were becoming firmer with volleyball season, which pleased me because over the summer I had let myself go soft a little. Most of the practice had been joking-around games with the volleyball nets on the beach of Zippleback Lake.

My eyes scrolled around my closet and I half-payed attention as I picked out a blue sweater, jeans, and some combat boots. I pulled on the hem of my sweater as I double-checked myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, and readjusted my silver necklace of a Norse shield knot. My grandmother, who had been born in Norway, had given it to me for my eight birthday. The shield knot was a symbol of protection, and was meant to ward off harm. The chain was thick enough that I never worried it would snap, and feeling the pendant rest against my collarbone gave me a sensation of safety whenever I wore it, which was all the time.

I did my hair in a quick ponytail and used a brown stretchy headband to keep my over-grown bangs off my face. I put on a quick layer of powder foundation (the only makeup I cared to wear), then sauntered down into the kitchen. My parents were at the kitchen table, in the same position as last night, my dad drinking coffee and my mom sipping one of her complicated latte drinks.

"'morning," I said, pouring myself a cup of plain black coffee and leaning against the counter to drink it.

My mom looked up. "Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Will you be ready to go soon?"

She frowned. "What's the big hurry?"

I sighed and glanced at the clock: 7:10. "I have a team meeting at 7:25."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, right!" She quickly finished her latte and stood. "Let's go."

I grabbed a bagel on the way out and we climbed into our Jeep. As we pulled out of our driveway and started down the street, I looked over at Hiccup's house and was reminded that I needed to ask Fishlegs about him. My mom tried to ask me about how school was going, but I told her I was tired and didn't really want to talk. During the ten minute drive to the high school, I formulated what I was going to say to Fishlegs.

We pulled in front of Berk High and I undid my seatbelt. "Bye, mom," I said, picked up my backpack off the car floor and putting a hand on the door handle.

My mom leaned over and gave me a one-armed hug. "Bye, Astrid, I love you. I'll pick you up at four-thirty after practice."

"I love you, too."

The team meeting didn't take long. Coach Moore just went over our strategies and techniques for Saturday's game, I had to give a little pep talk, then we all chatted for about ten minutes for "team bonding".

At 7:55 I was at my locker. I scanned down the hallway of the sophomore lockers, but I didn't see Hiccup anywhere. Weird, he usually rides the bus and gets here pretty early. I did see Ruff and Fishlegs, though. She was telling off a tall junior and shoving him away while Fish stood behind her awkwardly, hugging his book to his chest. By the time I made my way over, the older boy was gone and Ruff was teasing Fishlegs flirtatiously.

"And how was I supposed to chase that guy off?" Fish was saying. "He was at least five inches taller than me and had approximately three times my muscle mass."

"You could have scared him away with your supreme knowledge of pond scum," smiled Ruff, then she spotted me. I gave her a subtle, meaningful look and she returned one, understanding what I was telling her. She pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against and started walking away. "Anyway, gotta get to class."

Fishlegs looked at his watch. "The bell rings in five minutes, and your class is only right up those stairs."

Ruff continued walking away backwards and said before spinning around, "I gotta be on time."

Fishlegs frowned and looked after her. "She's never punctual," he said mostly to himself, then turned to me, "Does she... Astrid, do think she likes— I mean, your her best friend, do you know if she—?"

"She likes you, Legs," I said, cutting off his frantic mumbling.

He went beet red. "R— really? Y— you think so?"

"I have something to ask you." My serious tone must've shocked him out of his lovestruck daze and his face went back to normal and his sentences became coherent again.

"What is it?"

"It's about Hiccup," I said, still not sure how to phrase my question. "Has— is he okay?"

"I haven't talked to him since he got beat up by Dagur—"

"No," I interrupted. "Not like that. I mean, is he... sick?"

Fishlegs eyebrow furrowed. "Do you mean, does he have a chronic medical condition?"

I sighed in relief. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

He squinted. "I'm not 100% sure if he does. He does seem to weigh a significant amount less than the average fifteen-year-old, and he is rarely successful in performing any kind of strenuous physical activity."

Damn it, I hate it when he never knows for sure. "Has he always been like this?"

"Actually, no. He seems to have remarkably less energy than he had in middle school, or in ninth grade. I've thought it is due to the stress and anxiety of adolescence that many pubescent teens commonly experience."

"Say that like a normal person." Even though I understood perfectly what he said, I just wanted to see if he could do it.

He frowned in concentration. "Being a teenager is stressful, and maybe that's why he's changed since eighth grade. Also, his mom is away a lot more."

"Thanks, Fish," I said, then started to walk away.

"Wait, Astrid, why are you asking?"

I came back next to him. "I saw him last night, and he says he's okay and that he just has a bruise around his eye, but... I don't know, something felt off. It just made me notice how tired he always seems. I... it just worried me."

Fishlegs nodded. "It's easy to worry about Hiccup."

The bell suddenly rang, and on that enigmatic note, he hurried off to class, leaving me even more confused.

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A/N: This used to be two shorter chapters, but I combined them into one so that I wouldn't have two very short chapters amidst some longer ones.

Published: February 1, 2016