The first day back to school always sucked, but the first day back from spring break that year sucked on a whole different level. Though he had tried to pretend like nothing had changed for Cassie's sake, exhaustion was finally catching up to him: Jack had had trouble sleeping since the talk with his parents, his throat was hoarse like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper, a constant migraine was his newest and closest companion, and it felt like there were invisible chains tugging on his body and pulling him down at every step. Something inside him was broken, and the sharp edges were cutting his flesh from inside. He was unfocused, absent, and the cacophony of voices and laughter around him was starting to make him nauseous…
Hiccup had texted him their meetup place earlier that day, and Jack debated whether he should go or not. In the end, following a feeble sense of obligation, he dragged himself to the assigned classroom, mind hazy and body dull almost as if he were living inside a dream.
"Ah, nice of you to finally join us, Frost," Wilbur greeted, opening his arms in a cheerful greeting.
Jack gritted his teeth, fists clenching on his sides, and he ignored the unworded questions the rest of the group threw at him as he pulled a chair in the back row and sat there with his hoodie casting shadows on his face.
In the front of the room, Wilbur cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying, April Fool's is coming up, so what are our thoughts on an out-of-season Christmas party? Everybody loves ugly Christmas sweater parties, right?"
Jack huffed, pulling the hood more tightly around his face as he shook his head. That was a stupid idea.
"Got any better ideas, Frosty?"
He shrugged. "It's too predictable. Only amateurs with zero creativity would pull pranks on April Fool's Day."
"Easy, buddy," Hiccup leaned closer, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No harm in talking, right?"
"Yeah, try to dial down the animosity if you can," Andy added.
The silverhead let out a grunt, crossing his arms and shrinking on his seat.
"So the Christmas party? Yea or nay?"
"Sure, why not hang some fucking mistletoe all over campus while you're at it? Give those desperate loners some action?"
"Jesus Christ, what is your damage?" Violet hissed, spinning around in her seat to glare at the boy.
"I don't know, Parr. What is yours?"
"I'm not the one who's got a stick lodged up their ass!"
"Could've fooled me."
She shook her head incredulously. "Wow. I cannot with you right now."
"You're more than welcome to leave if you're upset," Jack announced, straightening up. "I don't even know what you're doing here in the first place—"
"Jack…" Hiccup's plea went unacknowledged.
"Nobody invited you, Violet."
Time seemed to stop at the silverhead's words. The room's temperature dropped; the silence that ensued was deafening. Tension grew thick in the air, and Hiccup frantically looked from one friend to the other, mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish out of water as he tried to fix something that was far beyond his skills to fix.
Jack, on the other hand, just felt bored. Blank. Inexistent. Nothing in that situation made him care.
Then, Violet raised her hand. Her eyes were still glued to Jack's and she seemed to be struggling to maintain her breathing even. "I vote for kicking frost the hell out of this meeting."
Jack snorted, shaking his head with disdain. "Like you can do that."
Arched eyebrows and hand on hip, she more than gladly accepted the challenge. "All in favor?"
Slowly, other hands joined hers in the air. First, Hiro, then Wilbur, and soon enough all of his supposed friends were voting against him.
"Sorry, man," Hiccup mumbled as he too raised his hand.
Jack laughed, a vile sound that burned his throat and made every muscle in his body sting in a mixture of ire and resentment. "Fine. See if I care."
He got up, sensing the apprehensive eyes following his retreat all the way to the door. He gripped the doorknob for a millisecond longer than necessary, wondering if anyone would try to stop him from leaving. Nobody did.
And the hole in his chest just grew a little bigger.
When Elsa heard what had happened, she couldn't help but blame herself for how things had turned out between Jack and his friends. Somehow, she felt like she could've prevented the fight. She had an inkling something was wrong; had she done something sooner, reached out, shown her support in some way, things wouldn't have unraveled the way they had. Her eyes burned. She couldn't make the same mistake again. Action was better than inaction, and Elsa was done waiting for things to eventually work out. Though she hadn't figured out what to do, she knew she had to do something.
With little hope of actually finding him there, but running out of other viable options, she went to the rooftop. Hand frozen on the doorknob, she took a moment to center herself. Part of her wanted to find him; another part—the scared part of her, the one that feared what she'd find when their eyes met—didn't. She opened the door.
For a moment, she thought she was alone. But then, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she identified the shape of a person sitting with their back against the wall.
"Hey," she said softly, trying to keep the waver out of her voice. "You missed dinner."
He made no indication of hearing her.
Quiet as not to startle him, she sat on the floor beside him. Close enough for her presence to be noticed, yet distant enough so he wouldn't feel cornered. "Seems like you had a heated day."
No response.
"Your friends are worried about you."
Another miss.
"They are under the impression that I can make you open up about whatever is troubling you." She chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Have they forgotten that I am the last person who'd be able to convince you to do anything you don't want to do?"
A slight shift, but still no words.
"Don't feel like talking, huh?" She sighed. "I can relate. Just… know that I'm here for whatever you need—"
Before she fully comprehended what was happening, she was being pinned down; hands gripped her shoulders, at the same time desperate yet detached; his weight immobilized her, harsh lips claiming every inch of flesh it managed to reach, and for the first time, she felt legitimate fear. For the first time, he was a threat.
"Jack," she gasped out of breath. Her fingers trembled; heart pounded out of her chest. "What are you doing?"
"This is what you want, right? To make me feel better?" he roared against her skin, raw and spiteful and though he was talking to her, Elsa still felt miles away from him, and at that moment, her frustrations boiled.
Blinking back hot tears, she pushed him as hard as she could and hastily sat up. "Do you really believe this will make you feel better?"
"Yeah. I do." His hands grabbed her head, fingers bruising her neck as his mouth clashed against hers once more.
"Okay, that's enough." Weakly, she got up on her feet, arms wrapped around herself, jaw tight, eyes burning.
She heard him exhale, disgruntled, as he pulled his hoodie over his head and walked away.
"Where are you going?!" She grabbed her sleeve, but he pushed her away.
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It matters because I love you, you idiot!"
"... Then maybe you should stop."
She refused to cry. He wanted to see her hurt, but she refused to give him that satisfaction. Voice low and hoarse, she mumbled, "This isn't you—this isn't the Jack I know."
He threw his arms in the air violently. "News flash, Your Majesty: I'm not some kind of prince charming who fits in your goddamn perfect fairy tale life. This"—he pointed at himself with disdain—"this asshole who doesn't care about anyone but himself; who would rather be angry at the world than to face his issues; and especially, who wouldn't bat an eye for screwing you up is who I fucking am. And I pity you for thinking I could ever be anything other than that.
"Next time you wanna try to fix me, don't. All you're gonna be is disappointed. And make sure to pass the message along. I'm done playing nice and if you get in my way, you're gonna get burned—"
She slapped him. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her; all she knew was that she wanted—needed—him to stop. Her fingers stung in the cold. Her entire palm was throbbing. "You wanna burden yourself like a martyr and refuse to talk to anyone about whatever it is that's making you act this way? Be my guest. But don't make less of the people who care about you and don't you dare tell me how I should feel."
Elsa walked past him, reaching the door with what outwardly could pass as confident steps. Just before going inside, she hesitated and glanced back at Jack from over her shoulder.
"... I never asked for a prince charming, Jack."
Violet kept tossing and turning in bed, grunting and roughhousing her pillow at short and uneven intervals of time, and the whole commotion was starting to piss Astrid off.
"Will you stop that?" the blonde snarled.
"Sorry, it's just—" Another grunt. "I'll try to be quiet."
Astrid stared at the bundle of blankets that was Violet and, with a sigh, took off her earphones. "Do you want to… talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about?" Violet snarled, laughing with spite. She sat up, slamming her fists on the bed. "That Jack was being a major pain in the ass and that he wanted to suck everybody else into the stupid black hole of drama and godawful choices that he created for himself?"
"For someone with nothing to say, you sure have a lot of words on the matter…"
"You know what's worse? That I let his provocations get to me. He wanted a fight, and I gave him exactly what he wanted. I feel so stupid."
"You're probably not the only one."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Super comforting, Hofferson."
"I never said I would comfort you—"
The door suddenly opened and Elsa came rushing inside, a blur of movement headed straight to her side of the room.
"Hey, Elsa…" Astrid greeted confused. "You got a letter today. It's on your bed."
"Thanks—uh, I'll check it later." The other girl was hiding behind her wardrobe door, fumbling around with her hangers, and something in her voice didn't sit right with the other girls. Astrid and Violet shared concerned glances, both uncertain as to how to better address the elephant in the room.
"So…" Violet cleared her throat, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position. "Did you find him?"
"I did."
"... And?"
"Can we do this tomorrow?" Elsa was growing frantic, and they all knew. "It's late and I—we'll talk tomorrow, alright?"
Immediately, both Astrid and Violet were up, crossing the room barefoot and placing warm and comforting hands on the blonde's shoulders. "Elsa…?"
"I—" A pained sob escaped Elsa's throat, and she crumbled, knees caving and tears spilling out unrestrained.
"Let me go make you some tea—" Astrid tried to stand up, but Elsa stopped her with a hand wrapped tightly around her wrist.
"No, don't bother."
"Hey," Violet spoke softly, one hand rubbing her friend's back, the other steading the latter's stance as she was guided to sit on the bed. "What happened?"
"I-I made everything worse."
"I doubt that."
"You didn't see his face, Violet," Elsa choked out, pained and miserable. "I slapped him."
"Listen to me. Both of you." Astrid paused long enough for the others to meet her eyes. "Frost is an expert at making people do anything he wants them to do, and guess what? For only God knows what reason, he wants everybody else to feel as miserable as him. Whatever the hell happened out there, it's not your fault."
Elsa shook her head. "I failed him, Astrid. Hiccup and the others—they asked me to take care of him, and I failed. I miserably, utterly failed. And now he's angry, and hurt, and with all this mess in his head that he refuses to talk about and it's all my fault."
"You were trying to help, to do the right thing. You can't blame yourself for things not turning out the way you expected them to."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions…" Elsa mumbled, rancorous.
"Elsa, please don't do this."
Violet brought one of Elsa's hands onto her lap, squeezing it tightly. "We're friends, right? All of us—those stupid jerks too? And we deal with things together. We do batshit stuff, and we're constantly at each other's throats, and we try to kill each other… but then we make up, and we have fun together. And then we do it all over again. This time won't be any different.
"Jack may be trying to dive head first onto a frozen lake to drown but we're not gonna let him do that. Because he may be an asshole, but he's our asshole."
"And we don't leave our people behind. No matter how much they try to convince us otherwise."
"Jack never came back to our room last night," Hiccup mumbled as he kept stirring his already soggy cereal with his spoon.
Unsurprising, the air at their table in the morning was gloomy and heavy with tension, and the absence of a third of their usual posse did nothing to uplift the mood.
"I am not talking about that jerk right now," Violet hissed, stabbing a piece of bacon with her fork and shoving it inside her mouth.
Andy sighed, always the benevolent mediator. "Violet…"
"Elsa cried herself to sleep last night," she snapped, and the announcement fell thick and uncomfortable smack dab in the middle of their table. Her tirade continued, "Have you dickheads ever seen her crying? I sure as hell didn't until last night, and let me tell ya: not a pleasant sight."
Hiccup looked down, having the courtesy to look ashamed. "I… didn't know."
"Damn right you didn't."
"Do you know what happened?" Wilbur asked.
"Like I would tell you shit even if I did."
"Calm down, girl, we're all on the same side here."
Violet chugged the rest of her juice, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The fury in her eyes made her look ready to skin someone alive. "Look, am I still pissed at Frost for the way he talked yesterday? I am, but do I wanna watch him self-destroying like he's so seemingly set on doing because of it? No. I don't." She shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna just sit here and let him drag my best friend down because he's a neanderthal with zero communication skills."
"Jack's just… not being Jack right now."
Hiro shook his head. "Stop defending him, Haddock."
"There's gotta be something we can do to help him."
Andy leaned back, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "Honestly? Anything we try right now will likely backfire on our asses."
"We can't just do nothing!"
"I think we need to give him space to sort things out on his own."
"How long's that gonna be?" Hiro asked.
"I don't know, buddy," Andy replied with a morose chuckle.
"Great. We'll rotate being free punching bags in the meantime then."
"Whatever it is, it wasn't my fault; I didn't do it," Jack announced as he slammed the headmaster's office's double doors open and paraded inside.
Scribbling pen stopping for a moment, North took a moment to smooth his tie as he said, "Have a seat, Mr. Frost. You are not in trouble. Yet."
"I have no clue why I was called here, North."
"I'm sure we can come up with something." His eyes narrowed, leaving no room for arguing. "Sit."
With a shrug, the boy sagged into the leather chair, hands buried deep inside his pockets and dirty shoes soiling the fancy carpet.
"I hear you spent a night at the infirmary earlier in the week."
"Wasn't feeling well."
North nodded. "Any idea what could have caused such indisposition?"
"Hay fever, maybe?"
"Would you say that was also the reason behind your absence in class, Jack?"
"Probably."
The headmaster waited patiently, but Jack honestly had nothing else to add, so he just sit there, staring at his sneakers and hating every second of his existence.
"Very well," the burly man said at last. He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a white envelope from it. "I received a very intriguing letter this week."
"People still write letters?" Jack mocked, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, I can see the novelty as well. In a day and age in which efficiency and speed are of utmost necessity, the back and forth required by postal communication can become a hindrance."
"Some things deserve to stay in the past," the silverhead mused boredly.
"Is that what you believe?"
"I guess." Jack hated that. The ominous, 'wise-man metaphor' way of talking North had a tendency to use with his students. That kind of deep thoughtfulness applied to random daily occurrences that made him think that they were discussing things far more important than the ups and downs of the postal system.
North hummed as if contemplating his very eloquent answer.
"Still don't know what I'm doing here, Mr. Headmaster sir."
"Would you like to know who this letter came from?" the headmaster asked, tapping the envelope with his index finger.
"Your Russian dealer from your mobster days?"
"Interesting guess. But no."
"I don't know, North. And I don't care."
North slid the paper across the desk, encouraging the silverhead to take it, and because Jack knew he wouldn't be allowed to leave if he didn't play along with North and his stupid games, he picked the envelope up with a groan and unfolded the letter.
It didn't take him long to figure out the sender, and though he had checked and rechecked the name signed at the bottom of the paper, it didn't make sense. Because apparently, his little sister had written a letter to his goddamn headmaster, a man whose existence Cassie only knew through Jack's colorful yet not-so-flattering anecdotes.
"What the hell is this?" he hissed under his breath as his eyes quickly ran through the lines of Cassie's neat handwriting.
She wrote about him. About the fun they had together, about how he was always looking out for her, and how he was always so brave for both of them. In her eyes, Jack was her protector, putting her first and acting like everything was fine, even at the expense of his own feelings. Jack was caring, and considerate, and he tried so hard to make everybody else have fun that it was very easy to overwhelm him when the scale tipped the other way. Cassie had a theory that her brother could bring a smile to anyone's face, but that he was too shy to accept those feelings when he was on the receiving end of that same kindness. She told North that Jack would probably be going through turbulent times, and she asked the headmaster to be patient and to help guide her big brother, because she knew that deep down, Headmaster North was someone Jack could look up to and that the man could help him in a way that Cassie would never be able to do.
"You have a truly precious sister, Mr. Frost," North said as Jack finished reading the letter.
"This is a kid's rambling, North." Jack shook his head, torn between laughing or screaming at the man's face. "Whatever you think you know about me, you're wrong ."
"I understand why you would feel affronted—"
"No, you don't understand shit." He got up, ready to break something. "You can be the boss of this school but my life is my life. You don't get to do whatever you're trying to do here." Jack violently waved an arm between North and himself to punctuate his point.
"Jack, you're my student," North said, eyes softening with a hint of sadness. Or maybe pity. He didn't know which was worse. "Of course your well-being is of my concern—"
"Your job is to make sure that I'm going to classes and that I'm at least pretending to learn stuff. That's where the line is. Anything else"—the paper crumpled in his hand—"is my business alone, so back off, okay?"
Unable to stand that place any longer, Jack tossed the letter somewhere as he made his way to the door.
"We are not done yet, Mr. Frost!" North's thunderous roar followed after him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
His knuckles went white around the doorknobs. He didn't bother glancing back at the man, but before he could slam the door behind him, Jack laughed.
"Yes, we are."
Hiccup wasn't really good at the whole 'let things play out on their own' dance. He did all in his power to change the status quo… and then subsequently felt like shit when things ended worse than they previously were. But he still couldn't stop himself from getting involved. It was part of his core. For better or for worse. So when his friends decided that it would be best to let Jack wallow in his pit of self-deprecation, Hiccup lowered his head and nodded along, but because he was Hiccup, distancing himself from the problem could only last so long. Especially now that he knew his best friend was in trouble.
There weren't that many places Jack could have been hiding if he didn't want to be caught, so it wasn't that surprising to find the silverhead sprawled on his bed with his headphones on, staring holes at the ceiling and hating the world.
"Hey, buddy…" Hiccup quietly clicked the door closed and made his way to Jack's side of the room. "Missed you in PE today."
"Fuck off, Hiccup," Jack grunted, turning away.
"This is my room too, you know." Hiccup said as he pulled Jack's chair and sat down.
For a moment, he just took in his friend's disheveled appearance. Jack was always so mindful of the way he presented himself to the world—a charming motherfucker with perfectly disarranged hair and white teeth and easygoing smile that compelled everyone, but the guy Hiccup found was a frumpy, greasy mess, with dark circles under his eyes so deep they make him look I'll.
"I brought you food," Hiccup said, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. "A lil PB&J to make you feel better."
"Not hungry."
"When was the last time you ate?"
"Who knows?"
"Jack, don't make me mother you," Hiccup sighed. An impatient hand rustled his hair. "You and I know I suck at it."
Jack threw an over-the-shoulder glare at him. "Here's a genius idea: leave me the fuck alone and you won't have to bother anymore."
Hiccup furrowed his eyebrows, gut-wrenching at the spite in the other guy's words. "I can't do that."
"Why?"
It pained him that he even had to explain. That Jack didn't realize how much his behavior was affecting the rest of them. It pained him that there he was, locked up in his room, thinking that he had to endure everything on his own… that, after everything, he didn't consider confiding in Hiccup.
"Because I miss my best friend."
There was a slight shift in the silverhead's dull eyes. His fists twitched. For a moment, the usual Jack was back. But before Hiccup could do anything to keep him there, he was gone again, leaving only that unnerving empty shell behind.
"Just leave me alone, Third."
Let him sort things out on his own.
Hiccup swallowed, feeling the knot in his throat. "Okay. If that's what you want."
He got up, unwrinkling his pants awkwardly. "Let me know if you need anything. And eat your damn sandwich, asshole."
She had texted him to meet her on the rooftop, but after the other night, she half-expected him to ignore her request. Five minutes to the arranged time, Elsa reached the door to the rooftop, finding a NO TRESPASSING sign taped to it. Amidst all that had happened since, Elsa had completely forgotten about the request filed by Student Council to have that lock fixed, but the physical blockage, the quite literal incapability of reaching out, made her feel an even larger gap stretching out between Jack and herself. Pessimism took charge, and her mind was flooded with negative thoughts. Chest tight, hands shaking, and heaving painfully, she stood in front of the door for what felt like an eternity, and when she tried to open it, it didn't budge.
"What…"
"Door's stuck," Jack's muffled voice said from the other side.
She let you a shaky exhale, and a part of her was glad he couldn't see her at the moment. "H-how long have you been out there?"
"A while. Can't feel my toes anymore."
"Oh, God." She didn't need more reason to worry about him, but apparently, the universe was not out of curveballs to throw at her.
"I thought you were done with me," he mused dryly.
"I was angry at you. Maybe I still am a little."
"My point still stands—"
"But I'm here. Trying to mend things between us. But it can only happen if you meet me halfway, Jack."
There was silence, and she could feel him clamming up again. Opting for another route, she tried again, "I got a letter the other day."
"Not you too…"
"Excuse me?"
"Turns out, my sister is a very avid correspondent."
Elsa swallowed once, conflicted. She lowered herself to her knees, palm resting against the cool metal, somehow sensing where his heart would be, and took a deep, long breath before speaking again.
"Dear Cassie—"
"What… are you doing?" His voice was hoarse and confused.
"Your sister asked me not to show you her letter, so I'm reading you my reply instead." She wet her lips before reading again. "Dear Cassie, thank you for the letter. Although hearing from you made me extremely happy, I must admit that the contents of your message were a little worrisome. Our unwavering love for our sisters is something your brother and I share and I can only imagine how terrified he must be right now. Because the mere thought of anything affecting your well-being is unfathomable. It's an awful place to find oneself in. My heart goes out to you both.
I'm sure you know it already, but I must reiterate how loved your brother truly is. Jack possesses such natural charisma that he can charm anyone with just a couple of words. The underclassmen worship him; he has collected more good friends in eighteen years than most people would dream of making in a lifetime, and even our faculty has trouble being stern with him, captivated by your brother as they are. Jack's adored for the thrilling, caring and captivating guy that he is, but like anyone else, he has flaws. He's impulsive; he makes mistakes. And when those mistakes happen, we all suffer with him. Not because of any vindictive desire your brother may secretly nurture, but simply because of the strong bonds we share with one another.
As you have guessed, this has been a rough week for your brother. Jack has perfected shutting people out down to an art, which I hadn't realized was another trait we shared. People like us have a hard time asking for help when it comes to our private matters, but we're fortunate to have more than enough people around us willing to lend a hand time and time again despite all the struggles.
Your brother is nothing short of obstinate. He faces obstacles head-on. And I'm sure he'll overcome his fears this time as well. Luckily, he won't be alone to do it.
Thank you again for the letter and I'm sorry it took me this long to reply. I look forward to seeing you again; I have not forgotten our promise to play in the park together. May I suggest a picnic if the weather is good? Wishing you all the best. Love, Elsa."
Without her voice to break the tense silence, Elsa felt the panic rising again. Trying to keep her breathing even, she folded the letter, struggling to put it back inside the envelope with her shaky fingers. Drained, she didn't know what else to do, and then there was a clunk and the door was opening, and Jack was standing there, tall and intimidating, in front of her.
"That's a very verbose letter you wrote to a ten-year-old," he stated.
Elsa blinked, trying to get a proper read of his face in the dark. "I thought the door was jammed."
"I lied."
He offered her his hand, and she wondered whether it was pure instinctive chivalry that made him reach out or a first attempt at making amends. Whichever the case, she took it. And when he tried to pull his hand back, she stopped him, lacing their fingers together. She looked at him, eyes glistened with new tears, but his expression remained blank.
"I-I realize it's presumptuous, but I talked to North. Your dad is coming to pick you up tomorrow. Whether you go or not, it's your choice." She took a step toward him, free hand gently brushing awry strands of hair away from his face. His eyes closed, and only then did she notice the twin wet trails running down his cheeks. It broke whatever pieces remained of her heart.
She kissed him, tasting salt.
"Whatever you decide to do, I'll be here. Waiting for you."