A/N: The title is from Abba's "One of Us" because listening to it inspired me to write this.
Hiccup had lost all sense of time. For all he knew, it could be shortly after midnight or early in the morning. He was sitting slumped over on his barstool, a collection of empty beer bottles in front of him. This particular night of the year had become his most-dreaded ever since his father had died four years ago, leaving him behind to put the pieces back together by himself. It wasn't like his mother was around much, traveling through forests and mountains rather than being with her son on the death anniversary of who she once claimed to be the love of her life.
He signaled the bartender to bring him another beer, despite knowing full well that more alcohol wasn't the solution. The pain would still be there when he woke up the next day, dulling over the coming days and weeks, only to resurface with new force the same time next year.
Looking around the few occupied booths and tables, he didn't see one happy face in the thin crowd. At the other end of the counter, a middle-aged man with graying streaks in his hair was staring into his glass, suit rumpled and tie hanging loose around his neck. A woman had put her head on the table behind him, makeup smudged all over her face as she struggled to stay awake. A handful more people were sitting scattered around the room, lonely sights emanating sorrow and gloom.
On the one hand, he should probably surround himself with happier folk, especially in a time like this. On the other hand, though, it weirdly helped to know that he wasn't the only one drowning in his own grief. Maybe he could round them all up and brainstorm healthier coping mechanisms. Something told him they would not be up for that, especially the young blonde in the corner. She looked like she'd murder him the second he glanced at her the wrong way.
The quiet music wasn't doing much to improve the mood. When demons were at work in his mind, cheery songs and the latest hits would get sucked right into the surrounding bottomless vortex of emptiness and pain.
A creaking sound alerted him to the door to the bathrooms opening and he winced when a tall, bulky man stepped through. Hiccup averted his face and took several swigs of his beer, willing the tears pricking at his eyes to disappear. He couldn't break down every time he saw someone who resembled his dad in any way, shape or form.
Stubbornly wiping at his eyes, he scanned the room for a distraction of any kind. There had to be something to help him stay above the water where he could breathe and fight against the waves trying to push him down.
The jukebox in the corner caught his attention. Grabbing his beer, he slid off the stool and stumbled over to the old machine. He fished a few coins out of his pocket and studied the selection of songs, hoping that the thing still worked.
On the other side of the room, Astrid scrunched up her nose at the taste of cheap gin. She wasn't surprised that this place wasn't running so well when all they sold were poor imitations of good drinks. But despite the terrible taste, the alcohol was doing its job, sterilizing the stab wounds in her chest and numbing the pain.
She got fired from the job she'd worked so hard to get, her best friend hadn't spoken to her in weeks, and every person she'd started a relationship with had ended up getting tired of her personal issues and left her for someone better, sometimes behind her back, long before she found out. It seemed like everything she touched inevitably broke.
The severely disappointed reaction of her parents when she asked them for financial support because she couldn't afford rent and food for long anymore, now that she was unemployed, had been the final straw. Before she could break down in her room and consequently not leave her bed for days, she'd rushed out onto the street and walked aimlessly through the city, seeking shelter in the corner of a third-rate bar she'd never visited before.
Wallowing in her lonely corner, she absently watched the guy with the beers and the unruly mop of hair stagger over to the juke box where it took him several minutes to decide what he wanted to do with the blinking lights and buttons he was staring at. He looked the same kind of broken that she felt.
He briefly struggled with inserting the coins into the machine but then he started swaying to the first tunes. Astrid smiled despite herself. She had only positive memories associated with this song. A few people started complaining when he began to sing, very offkey and blatantly drunk.
"An' so I dealt you the blooow. One o' us had to gooo. Now 's different, I want you to knooow!" He wasn't just offkey, he was also slightly offbeat, missing the rhythm by the fraction of a breath. It was somehow very endearing, combined with the passion on his face with which he shouted out the lyrics.
The people that kept glaring at him, telling him to shut up and fuck off, were seriously starting to piss her off. She clenched her fists when the guy missed a particularly high note by far and the cranky hag at a table near her groaned in annoyance.
Grabbing her drink, Astrid jumped up from her seat and purposefully walked up to him where he was leaning on the jukebox with one arm, the other stretched out towards the ceiling. His eyes were closed as he waited for his cue to jump into the chorus, so he didn't notice her until she chimed in. His eyes flew open, initial surprise making way for a compassionate smile that deflected from the grief buried deep within.
Together, they renegaded against the people around them that had already succumbed to their fate and chosen to give up.
"One of us is crying, one of us is lying in her lonely bed," she bawled passionately. They moved from the jukebox to the middle of the room, dancing in-between chairs and empty tables. She unintentionally spilled her drink over one of the tables and put the glass away before she could accidentally smash it.
When the song ended, she felt lighter, the heavy clouds that had recently gathered above her clearing up a little.
"Thank you," he said, sincere eyes sobering for a second. She nodded, silently telling him that she understood.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the jukebox to select another song to bawl and dance to. When she made her choice and the fast, upbeat melody sounded from the speakers, he decidedly put his beer away and let her pull him back onto their makeshift dancefloor.
Her own heartache faded from her chest the wider his grin grew. Only the cranky hag was still loudly complaining, throwing insults at them that fell on deaf ears. Astrid couldn't care less, existing only in this small two-person bubble of hope.
At the end of the night, when they'd run out of coins to feed the jukebox with, they settled their tabs and left the few sorrowful figures behind. The sky was brightening with every minute, early birds were chirping somewhere above their heads, and the fog on the horizon was slowly dissipating into thin air.
They spent the time comfortably chatting about everything and nothing while they waited for their respective cabs. She gave him her number and he gave her a kiss, the first weak shaft of sunlight breaking through the last standing barrier of the night.
A while later, as she was leaning her head against the cool glass of the cab's window, exhaustion settling in her bones, she watched the sky slowly change colors. Dark gray turned to red and orange, blue waiting at the end of the line, shades seamlessly blurring into each other.
She could still hear Abba's One of Us playing in her heart, and she thought that maybe not all she touched eventually had to break.