A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments on the previous chapter! I hope you enjoy this one too!

Chapter 2: New Year's Eve 2013-2015

December 31st, 2013

Being an university student who lived away from home left Astrid in this awkward spot between not quite being a foreigner but also not really knowing where every single new thing was in Berk. Of course, she was also too proud to admit that. So when Heather, who still lived with her parents, had told Astrid to meet her at this hot new bar, Astrid had assumed she would be able to find it without any problems. And that she didn't have to buy more data for her mobile plan in case she got lost.

She had been wrong.

She was walking through the inner city of Berk, a few blocks away from the Winter Wonderland market, through the streets she knew bars used to be in, but of course, this particular one wasn't. She supposed she could old-fashionably call Heather, but she didn't want to. She could do this. Berk was her home, it shouldn't be difficult, and she couldn't admit to herself that she didn't know everything. Not again.

She'd already been doing enough of that the past weeks.

The exams she'd had before the Christmas holidays had not gone well. The first year of her studies in Medicine had flown by, and had covered a lot of material she'd already excessively studied for her entrance exams. It had given her the opportunity to join sports clubs, student associations, and spend a lot of time with all the amazing people she'd met. More often drunk than sober. Parties were simply more fun that way, and after a bit of trial and error, she'd gotten a good idea of her tolerance. Although last year's New Year's Eve was arguably still one big blur.

This year was different, however. They'd started with a lot of new material, the pressure amped up significantly, and while some of her classmates were able to sit in the library from nine to five every day, she just couldn't. And she didn't know why. There was no need to cut down on any of her weekly club and sorority meetings - she had time to study during the day. But in those hours she set aside for her studies, something was missing, a certain drive that others did have. And which she didn't.

She wasn't used to not being able to get what she wanted.

Perhaps she simply needed some time to charge up, to get back in the zone. Refocus, just like preparing herself for another kick-boxing round. She was looking forward to spending New Year's Eve with Heather and other friends from high school. To them she was still Astrid Hofferson, who was always on top of things, who was fun to hang out with and who, most importantly, never screwed anything up.

Luckily lots of people at university still thought her to be fun. And they didn't pry beyond that.

She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her favourite 'it doesn't need to be fashionable, just warm' dark blue winter coat, blowing hot air into her pulled-up scarf and warming her nose. Thank the Gods she'd gone to study in the south. She didn't miss the Berkian cold one bit.

Still not having spotted Drago's Dragon Den, she turned right into the next street, hoping to get luckier there. She let her gaze wander over the terrace at the corner, looking for her best friend, but came up with nothing. She bit her lip and decided to check once more, just to be sure.

And fell right into a pair of bright green eyes.

But they weren't Heather's.

She didn't know why she hadn't recognised him on her first survey, because now that she saw him, she could hardly look at anything, or anyone, else. She'd thought that, after him not showing up last year, the sight of him vomiting into the snow would be the last she ever saw of him. But there he was, looking back at her. Fake Foot Guy.

Fake Foot Man, now.

She was pretty sure that if he stood up from his chair, she'd no longer have to look down at him. He had become impossible taller, his shoulders broader, no traces of puberty awkwardness remaining. His round face had been reshaped into a square jaw, covered in slight stubble, making him look so handsome her legs turned to jelly. He no longer matched the image she had of him in her head, of the awkward yet slightly adorable teenage boy. Yet those green eyes were still there, his auburn hair even more messed up than before…

And only then did she realise that she had seen him last year. A hazy memory, a gaze across the dance floor that she thought had been a distorted image of the guy she'd made out with. But the shots of tequila had lied to her. Because she would have remembered kissing someone who'd Neville Longbottomed as hard as Fake Foot Guy had.

And for a moment, she deeply regretted that he hadn't been the one she'd kissed. And that she didn't even know his name.

Until her phone rang in her back pocket and Heather snapped her out of it. She didn't know how long she'd been gaping - which wasn't like her, how the Hel did he make her do that? - but judging by the lopsided smile he gave her when she waved sheepishly, he didn't mind.

And when she walked off, following Heather's instructions on where to go, she found that the only thing she herself minded, was that she hadn't stayed around longer.

December 31st, 2014

Hiccup didn't know what he was doing here. He didn't know why he was out of his house - his house, his, only his. Why he hadn't stayed home, watched his blu-ray copy of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and gone to bed on time. Even his dad had loved the movie, after being reluctant to go to 'just another superhero film' at first. But he hadn't wanted to ruin 'Men's Night Out' with Snotlout and Uncle Spite, and had ended up happily surprised.

If Hiccup was perfectly honest with himself however, he knew he would just end up crying and not fall asleep for a long time if he'd gone through with that plan. So he might as well be an insomniac anywhere else.

He made himself more comfortable in the booth, peeling at the label of the empty beer bottle on the table in front of him. He was glad Snot and Fishlegs were getting to get another round. Because he could use some more beer, and he could no longer handle the way they looked at him with overwhelming pity.

He hoped the twins would get here soon. At least they would act normally. Or at least, according to what was normal for them.

He didn't need people to feel sorry for him all the time. He could handle himself. He'd done the responsible, adult things. He had called off his semester abroad, had put his studies on hold entirely, and had moved back to Berk to take care of everything that had needed taking care of. Which was way more than he could have imagined.

It was already enough that Uncle Spite and Gobber came over to help him on Saturday nights. Instead of to drink beer like they were supposed to.

That they hadn't had a proper Men's Night in half a year.

That he'd made tea for and had politely nodded at the stories of more cops than he could count. Let alone whose names he could remember.

Given that he had to enjoy all that, he really wasn't looking for more reminders of the fact that he was now officially an orphan. And that he would never, ever see his father again.

Living with that knowledge every day was already painful enough.

He wondered if it would ever end. If he could ever stop looking at the occasional man or woman in blue walking by, making sure everyone was safe on New Year's Eve. If he would at one point stop asking himself how much longer those police officers had to live, because his father should have been on duty too tonight, like every other year. Every normal year.

Stoick Haddock shouldn't have been fatally stabbed while saving an innocent woman from a regular, everyday mugger. And Hiccup shouldn't have gotten that one call that had turned his entire life upside down.

He'd never known his mother. She was someone he could mourn, based on her pictures, but couldn't really miss. Not like this. His heart torn out, leaving this huge, gaping hole which refused to be patched up. Making him wish that he had never moved out, that he had stayed in the home that he had now inherited, mortgage paid off, to simply live in it with his father for a while longer. Sure, they'd always had their differences, their disagreements, their fights…

But even though he'd now had several months to figure it out, he still didn't have any idea how to live his life without his father in it.

People told him it got better. He couldn't imagine that it would.

He looked up from his beer when he had successfully undressed it, the slightly damp label mocking him by reminding him there was only 5% alcohol in it. That wasn't enough to make him forget. Perhaps he should have asked the guys for something stronger. But with how legitimately, uncannily concerned Snot had been the past few months, he knew he was more likely to upset them, and put his own misery in the spotlight.

He didn't want to do either of those things. So he slightly turned his heavy head, burying his hand in his hair, his elbow on the table, and gazed out of the window.

At the exact same moment Hot Chocolate Girl sneaked a glance inside.

She looked better than he did. Which wasn't difficult. She always did. But today, the difference was even more glaring than normal. More so than last year, when she'd looked surprised to see him, suddenly more uncomfortable than he'd ever seen her before. Like somehow, she'd forgotten to put up her defences, the walls he hadn't realised were there until that moment crumbling.

He had considered walking up to her then, before she'd gotten that phone call. He'd hoped to see her in the days that followed, to get the opportunity to try again. Because part of him had thought that it couldn't be a coincidence that their eyes had met for what was now, as of this exact moment, the sixth year in a row. That perhaps, fate was on his side, that her kissing that other guy in the club two years ago wasn't something he should still be bothered by. And although he'd slowly forgotten about her again when spring came around, somewhere deep down, his wish to see her had remained.

But now that he had the chance to get up and talk to her, her pace faltering as she looked back at him, he found he couldn't. After all, if 2014 had shown him anything, it was that the Gods, if they even existed at all, didn't favour him in the slightest.

So he shook his head at her, his heart stinging with grief, but he forced his lips to curl up regardless. Even though he knew his smile wouldn't reach his eyes, not today, he felt the need to apologise to her. For being himself. And for all the baggage he carried with him.

Despite his rejection - cowardice? depression? complete and utter defeat? - she smiled back at him. Thoroughly, genuinely, lighting up her face and the otherwise dull, grey world along with it, her hair shining golden in the light that came from her alone, the street around her non-existent. And somehow, that smile managed to pull on the heartstrings he thought he'd buried with his father. To fire up a heat in his chest he hadn't felt for months.

Her image stayed with him after she walked way, the world seeming just a little brighter. More hopeful.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to think that perhaps, maybe, life would get better again after all.

January 1st, 2016

Astrid needed another cocktail. And then two. Have 'uptown funk give it to you', whatever Bruno Mars might mean by that. It didn't sound so bad right now.

Somehow, she had ended up alone this New Year's Eve. She had decided to hit town anyways, because she was twenty-two and by now excelled at making bad life decisions. Because Heather and her other high school friends were on holiday this year, and she hadn't been able to join them.

Since she'd spent all her money on parties and expensive tuition fees.

To get a degree in something she no longer liked, the thought of spending even another week in the library learning medical mumbojumbo by heart instead of doing anything - anything - remotely practical killing her. Let alone the years she still had to go to become an actual doctor. If she could even get there with the grades she'd achieved so far.

She would have to drop out. She knew it. University had finally decided she was failing too many courses, and just before Christmas, she'd blown her last chances to make up for it. As it turned out, going to the gym, along with drinking and partying even more, because those were the only things she still enjoyed, didn't exactly help in passing exams.

She had to tell her parents. Inform them that all their support had been for nothing, that their formerly high-achieving daughter, who had never struggled in high school, had completely blown it. That she would have to move back in with them, and that she didn't have a plan for what was next.

She'd always wanted to help people, which was why she'd wanted to become a doctor in the first place. But apparently that desire didn't beat her inherent need to completely ruin herself.

Diagnosis: helpless and clueless.

Tonight, she simply longed to forget about that. To start 2016 out right. And the longer she spent away from home, the better. So she could postpone telling her parents the truth for a while longer.

She was on the hunt, looking for a guy, or girl - that was perhaps the only useful thing she'd learnt about herself these past few years, that she didn't mind female attention either - to go home with. Someone who would show her a good time while she was just sober enough to consent but too far gone to regret. And who wouldn't question it when they woke up to an empty bed.

Walks of shame were good early-morning exercise, after all.

Gruffnut's Grunge Grotto was a good place to start. A more obscure venue, somewhere between a club and a bar, reliving the glory days of Nirvana and co two and a half decades after the fact by letting a live band disfigure modern-day songs, like Mr. Mars', into glorious 90's grunge. She'd personally been more of a Spice Girls fan as a kid - she'd always been very good at telling people what she really, really wanted - but this was a nice way to spice up her life regardless. Or her night, at least. It was refreshing to be somewhere where she could wear her ripped jeans and didn't have to care about her mascara smearing, because she could actually pass that off as fashionable.

She accepted her next drink from the bartender, downing the shot in one go. She fixed her hair into a lose half-up bun and turned around, intending to seize up the band. Bands usually knew how to have fun, no strings attached. Perhaps they had a handsome guitarist, or a drummer…

But then she saw someone in the corner of her eye.

Him.

Fake Foot Guy was sitting on a stool at the other side of the bar, leisurely leaning back against the timber. She still remembered the way he'd looked last year, the bags underneath his eyes, the clear exhaustion in his gaze when he'd looked at her. The way he hadn't really smiled. How she had wanted to rush inside and hug him, because somehow, she'd felt like he'd needed it. But he'd shaken his head at her, chipping off a piece of her heart with that simple motion.

She hadn't really understood why. She'd spent more days than reasonable - more days than made sense considering she didn't even know his name, that they weren't anything at all - trying to figure out why he, out of all men on Earth, had rejected her.

He seemed to be doing much better now. He fit right in with his black leather jacket, the heel of his good foot tapping on the ground, along to the band's rhythm, because his legs were actually long enough to reach all the way down. He was simply wearing jeans, nothing special, nothing she had never seen before, but she found them incredibly sexy nevertheless… And found herself wondering how it would feel to wrap her thighs around his, to bury her hands in his gorgeous, thick auburn locks, to kiss him senseless while he pushed her against his bedroom door…

She wanted someone to make her feel good.

Why not him?

She entertained that idea for a moment, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and biting down on her lower lip. She only had to walk up to him. Somehow, she knew they didn't need to talk, that if she simply wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, their lips meeting, that everything would be alright.

It felt right.

But when he turned his head, looking away from the band, and saw her too, his eyes opening up in surprise, those green eyes that immediately drew her in, she suddenly understood. She no longer wondered why he hadn't wanted to come over the year before.

As much as she felt that this was right, that he was right, she couldn't ignore the other voice in the back of her head.

Not now.

She could use anyone to ease her sorrows. But not him.

He was simply too special.

So before she could make another bad decision, she ran, leaving him to stare at her back as she rushed outside, longing to get to the bicycle that would take her back home.

She knew she would regret leaving tomorrow, knowing that she hadn't seized the opportunity that only seemed to offer itself one night a year. But it was simply part of the mess she had to clean up.

So that hopefully, she would be ready next year.

A/N: Definitely darker years for this fic's Hiccstrid... They didn't talk to each other in these years... Will next year be different?