Authors note: here we are- it's not quite finished yet^^ almost, but not yet. A few loose ends to tie off first. Hope you enjoy the chapter- I won't keep you from it any longer- feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought! See you tommorow^^
The slam of a loud car door made him jump. What in the world? He was startled- and frowned in confusion- but he kept his eyes shut. He shouldn't have been surprised- it could've been neighbours... except he didn't have any neighbours. Not close enough to disturb him, anyway. His bungalow was semidetached- and the house it was attached to was empty... So who on earth was...?
"That's all the bags from the middle!" He heard a woman call out to some unknown person. Presumably they were already in the house and didn't hear her, since there was no response.
"Mum! Mum! I got the trophies!" This new voice was that of a little girl- a thoroughly excited one by the sounds of it. He could practically see her- bouncing on the toes of her feet, carrying the aforementioned box of trophies.
Deciding the song could wait (he was in no rush)- and he wouldn't be able to concentrate properly with this racket anyway- he amused himself with imagining the scene outside. A car parked beside the patch of grass that joined the two houses, mirroring his own parked vehicle. The little girl holding a box full of trophies, jumping about with excitement, as a woman bustling around the car, trying to organise its unloading.
Looks like someone's moving in, he noticed. The house had been for sale for as long as he'd seen it. He never really saw anyone getting shown round it since he spent a lot of his time at campus, but it looked like it had finally been sold.
"Alright- be careful with them!" The woman called in response to the little girl. "Take in what you can from the boot, but leave the music for your brother. You know what he's like about it- I bet you that instrument of his is already inside." She chuckled.
Music? Instrument? Perhaps it was a student. Arendelle? He wondered. He knew some other students took up residence in the area, but he didn't really know them all that well- they specialised in different departments. He knew old Nic played brass, and Aster and Tiana played woodwind (clarinet and flute respectively, if he remembered right), but he never really saw them around campus, so he didn't know a lot about them. He wondered what his new neighbour would be... He hoped he wasn't a modern band muscian- like a drummer or guitarist. He'd heard they could be very loud neighbours- especially when they 'got the band together'.
"Speak of the devil." The woman said loudly, an unspoken smile in her voice. "Come on, you- when you've quite finished goggling at the place, me and your sister are doing all the work here." She scolded, teasingly. He heard an apologetic chuckle reply, and his brows furrowed slightly. That was weird. It seemed really familiar-.
"Sorry mom- I'm just so excited." A new voice broke in.
It was like being hit by lightning. Hiccup's eyes were open faster than flying bullet. He froze. Suddenly curiously tense. Shaken like a vibrating tuning fork had been pressed into his chest.
... No way... It- it couldn't be... He felt numb- paralysed by pure, disbelieving shock. It just couldn't be!
"Well, you best hope Emma doesn't trip and smash those trophies of yours." The woman's voice reprimanded. He vaguely saw her small silhouette through the window. He would've seen her shake her head if his eyes hadn't locked, and spaced out into a different universe.
"Go on- your music's buried in the boot somewhere." She told him, dismissively.
"Sure thing!" The voice called after her as she headed inside the house.
Somehow, Hiccup suddenly came crashing back down to earth from the other universe he'd been stuck in. He was on his feet before he even realised what he was doing, craning his neck round the grand piano- trying to get a glimpse of next door. He could see a figure through the distant car window- partially blurred, partially in shadow, partially obscured... But just visible enough...
He watched the figure root around through the back of the car... The impossibly familiar figure. But even then he couldn't believe it. He just couldn't! How could it be him?! It wasn't possible!... After all these years...
The stool fell to the floor with a muted thud- the piano abandoned, music forgotten- all that Hiccup was focussed on was the impossible silhouette next door. He flew towards the front door- frantically battling with the key to get it to open, and not even bothering to shut it behind him. He desperately fought through he glare of the sun that, after the darkness of the entrance hall, blinded him. He needed to see! He had to see this dammit! He ran across his drive like he'd never ran before. Heart going ten to the dozen as a thousand emotions span round his head like orbiting planets. His thoughts had gone numb, but his mind was going wild! No way- there was just no way. This couldn't be real! Was it really-? Wa- was it... Was it him?!
By the time his vision cleared, he was already speeding across the garden- crossing the threshold from his house to next door's. The figure had dragged himself out of the car, and was headed towards the house- a stack of too many boxes towering over his head. Hiccup's eyes locked onto that stack of boxes. Taking in every last part of the impossible boy he could see next to the cardboard.
Slim fingers that looked like they could hold and manipulate a bow with ease... They were just like his.
Pointlessly- ridiculously- bare feet, and three quarter length trousers that showed no regard for the cold... Just like he'd see when he'd watched him skate!
Loose, comfortable, blue fabric... He prayed it belonged to a hoodie.
Everything about him screamed of that ghost- except that this wasn't a ghost, and it wasn't a dream! How could it be- WOAH! He had no idea how it would've played out normally- but his feet decided to revisit their unfortunate habit of tripping over themselves at the worst possible moments.
He went flying- crashing head over heels straight into the pillar of boxes.
...Owww... This concrete was not very forgiving of people landing on it...
He was sprawled on the ground- half written music sheets scattered around him as he struggled to come to his senses. He hauled himself onto all fours... ow... Stupid feet- wait... He heard a groan from just in front of him...
And it felt like time had stopped... He was about to see for sure... If it really was him. His guardian saviour from four years ago... He hardly dared look up... But he couldn't bear to stand the agony of waiting any longer... Everything froze.
His heart went still, his lungs went slack... eyes slowly widening.. as he drew a breathless gasp into his lungs...
But that was...
"Ow." The guy in front of him grumbled. It was him... It was his voice! It was his face! He sounded just like him- and he looked exactly like him! Well, almost. He wasn't quite like he remembered him; because the violinist he knew had been a ghost, a spirit... and this person in front of him was most definitely alive. His skin was pale, but it was not even close to translucent.
... It was so strange... What had once been nothing but white, he was now seeing in full colour... And apparently his hair was naturally that windswept, because it's style hadn't changed one bit- aside from how you would expect it to change over a few years. It's style might've been correct, but it's colour wasn't. It was a rich, chestnut brown- not the glowing white he knew from his memories.
This was surreal. He was clearly visible- in full, defined colour- crumpled on the ground instead of hovering above hovering above it. It was so different to the boy he was used to and yet still... Hiccup felt overwhelming joy banish his disbelief.
It was him.
Standing right in front of him after four long years... He'd barely changed... It was funny- in four years he'd grown from an awkward, skinny dork into a full grown girl magnet (or so he'd been told)- and yet this living spirit didn't look like he'd changed one bit. But that didn't matter. He was back... and, more importantly, he was alive.
"Emma, you need to watch where you're-" The impossibly real boy stirred, sitting up- scrunched eyes fluttering. Hiccup inexplicably found himself holding his breath. What colour were they really, if they weren't diamond white...? "...Going." The boy finished, looking straight at him... with warm, chocolate eyes. Not a dark chocolate, he thought- more of a melted milk... Or, wait, was it a little darker than that? Or richer? Or softer... Was it more of a chestnut? Hold on- was that a hint of aubern in there? No, it was a goldish tint... Was it? Four years he'd been waiting to know what colour the spirit's eyes had been, and he still couldn't decide. But then they locked with his own, forest green, eyes, and it ceased to matter. Hiccup felt himself cast under their spell once again- pure white, or undefinable brown, they were just as entrancing.
Those were his eyes- without a shadow of a doubt.
The same eyes that he lost himself in every time they met his... They still took his breath away...
But... there was something about them that wasn't quite there... Where was the realisation and recognition? There was almost no reponse. He was right in front of him! Didn't that inspire anything? Why was he giving him that look, as though...? As though he was just a complete stranger he'd just bumped into... No...
"Wow my little sister grew up all of a sudden." He muttered, before a casual, friendly smirk spread across his face. But it was a greeting smirk- the kind of smile you did with people didn't know, when you were trying to make friends. He supposed you could call it a winning smile... But he definitely didn't feel like he was winning. Didn't he have anything to say to him? After four years?... Could he really have...
The boy opened his mouth to say something else (no doubt some kind everyday greeting to a stranger that would surely break the pianist's heart), when he caught sight of the scattered sheets around them.
"Shoot- my music!" He cursed, scrambling to pick them up. The moment broken, Hiccup's better nature kicked in, and he started helping him gather the loose sheets... He didn't get it. Why he was acting like this was the first time they'd met? Thankfully there wasn't much wind about, so the papers didn't have much chance of escape. He dimly registered that this was his fault and started to apologise for his clumsiness, as he pounced on a piece that was about to get blown out of reach.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you."
"S'alright, no harm done." The boy told him, chuckling. Hiccup couldn't quite bring himself to chuckle back.
He busied himself with collecting the sheets, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd promised to remember that spirit/boy/whatever he was- and he'd kept to his promise! The violinist wouldn't have forgotten him... Would he? For a moment cold doubts slipped their way into his mind. What if he had forgotten. What if he was just a random pianist he met one night for a few hours and didn't even bother remembering... No. That was wrong. That silver ghost wouldn't have forgotten-... Oh... Of course.
He'd been a bit stupid to assume that he'd remember him, really. Whatever must've happened to bring the silver spirit into the world of the living would've obviously wiped his memories of that night (whether it was some kind of resurrection, reincarnation, magic, voodoo or goodness knows what else). Really, he should've been surprised if he did remember. There was that unspoken law in myths and stories about stuff like this: if you get a new life, you have to forget the old one (it saves tying off any painful loose ends, he guessed was the logic of it).
Still, he couldn't help but wish the spirit would at least recognise him. Everything they'd been through... Was he was going to be the only one to remember any of that? The thought was almost painful. But worse than that was the thought that the boy didn't even know him anymore. He'd completely forgotten him... But perhaps the worst thing of all was that if he'd forgotten everything... that meant he'd forgotten their symphony. The song which he'd fought so hard to hold on to, now forgotten by its other half. He was completely oblivious to its even existance. He'd promised to remember it for him and yet now he just-.
His heart started to sink lower and lower, and he subconsciously noticed he'd gathered all of the scattered music sheets and held them out for their creator to collect. He wasn't really paying attention, so he was stunned when a slender, surprisingly cold, hand touched his own. His entire arm went numb for a moment, as the truth really sank in.
He was really here in front of him... Against all odds... He thought he'd never see him again, and yet, here he was in front of him. Alive! A real, solid, living, breathing person. Flesh and blood, instead of emptiness and light. Who cares if he's forgotten, if it means he's been brought back to life! He was still the same person as before. They could just start again. Maybe they'd lost a bit of a past, but they'd gained an entire future. Besides, that only meant that he could fall in love with his music all over again... Love... Was that what it had been?
He realised he still hadn't let go of the pages, and hurriedly feigned interest in them to try and cover up the awkward situation.
"Ah, er, didn't know you wrote." He said, quickly. His eyes found themselves drawn to the bold title at the top of the page, but it was upside down. He squinted to try and read what it said...
Something inside him felt like it had collided with a brick wall.
"Yeah, violin." The boy answered. Hiccup didn't hear... 'A forgotten half'... No. Stop it. He thought. It almost certainly meant something else- don't jump to conclusions! He scolded himself, but he couldn't stop the fragile hope starting to grow within him. Could this really be-...? Did he really remember-...?
He didn't even realise he'd spoken the name out loud, until the boy suddenly smiled and explained.
"It's just something I've been working on for a couple of years now." Hiccup stared at the piece, marvelling it like it was the greatest treasure in the world. Years? The hope started to spread like wildfire. Stop it. That could mean anything. He told himself. Don't get your hopes up. "Bit of a mess, huh? I can never get it quite right. You ever hear a song once- and you can almost remember it, but it just nags at the back of your mind for ages? It's sorta like one of them." He finished.
... Okay, he couldn't deny it anymore. There was definitely something there- like he'd just said, he could almost remember! He almost remembered their symphony! But whenever he tried to reach it, it just kept slipping from his grasp... Hiccup knew that frustration all too well- he got the exact same feeling whenever he himself tried to recall that melody. Wait. His heart skipped a beat. He was attempting to record down the duet, just like he was? He caught his breath for a moment. He was staring at an almost remembered, incomplete half of their old duet... Just like the one that sat on his piano! It was even just as full of infuriatingly long gaps, and uncertain question marked notes- just like his!
He jumped, as a loud shout echoed from the open door of the newly occupied house, jolting him from his thoughts.
"Jackson Overland Frost- what are your gloves, coat and shoes doing on the floor?! You're gonna catch your death out there!" She shouted. "Again." She added, loudly, so he'd hear it. What? Hiccup thought, cogs starting to turn.
The boy smiled at the comment, as he rolled his eyes- shaking his head, as he stuffed the collected papers back in the open box, and pushed the flaps shut.
"I'm fine Mom!" He called back, shooting Hiccup a look that said 'mothers, huh?' Hiccup would've pointed out that his hands actually were quite cold, if he wasn't too busy wondering what the heck his mother meant by:
"Again?" He repeated, questioningly.
"Oh yeah." The boy replied, apparently realising how odd that sounded. "Had an ice skating accident a few years ago- pronounced dead for two whole hours before the doctors got me into some kind of induced coma. Then I ended up spending a few weeks clocked out in a hospital before I came round to myself again." He informed, casually, like he was everyday news- he even carried on stacking the boxes on top of each other, ready to carry in, as he was telling him.
Hiccup's swore his mouth could've been touching the floor at that moment. He might as well have been punched with that information. So he-... He'd-... Wait, wait, wait, so what?... The story seemed to have short circuited his brain from sheer overload of thoughts, questions and feelings. Seeing his stunned face, the boy laughed lightly, and grinned at him, reassuringly.
"Don't worry." He told him. "That was ages ago- it didn't even stop me skating." Hiccup didn't think he could've been more shocked. He was wrong. This boy was just-... he was a special kind of crazy. He'd died for two hours, and he didn't even seem bothered by it. Heck- he bet he went back on the skating rink to celebrate his recovery (it honestly wouldn't surprise him at this point).
"Besides- look at me now." The boy grinned. "Managed to get myself in Arendelle... Somehow." He joked, standing up and offering his hand. Hiccup, still requiring his brain from its short circuit, blinked at it for a second before accepting it and pulling himself up.
It took another moment for his words to sink in. Arendelle? So he might see him around campus? Never mind campus! He lives next door!
"So you play the violin then, Jackson?" He commented, more to savour his name than anything.
"Just Jack." He corrected. "Mom only calls me Jackson when I'm in trouble. Whiiich is pretty much all the time." He said, voice straining slightly as he picked up the heavy stack of boxes and started to carry them in.
... Jack... He thought... He knew his name finally after all these years he had a name for the ghost that changed his life...
He didn't even notice the slow smile spread across his face, as he went to head back over to his own house. Maybe he could bring some biscuits over, or lend a hand? Until his lesson started, at least. But he still had a good half an hour until then- and the academy was only a ten minute walk away. It was what good neighbours did, right. And he was his neighbour, afterall. The thought somehow made him slightly giddy.
"And, actually, I play music- not the violin. The violin just kinda goes with it."
The joke was thrown over to him like a casual comment, but it hit Hiccup like a long lost, private joke. He stood, stock still, as he struggled to accept what he'd just heard. But.. he couldn't remember! He thought he'd forgotten all that...
He swallowed hard, gathering his courage, before committing himself to the following words.
"So if took it away, and replaced it with any other instrument, you'd be just fine?" He questioned, his whole being holding its breath for his response.
"Give me a few weeks! I could make it work!" The boy called back, completely unaware that he'd just said the magic words.
Hiccup turned... How would he know to say that?... How could he remember that, if he didn't remember him? He thought... He thought he'd forgotten...
He watched his retreating back as he walked into the house... He felt hope start to flutter in his chest... Hope for what might be. Maybe, he did remember. Somewhere, deep down, the memories of that night lingered... and maybe one day he could bring them back. Or maybe it was just a sign that things could go back to the way they were. Maybe it was impossible for his memory to return. Maybe... But that symphony had been written on their hearts- it was not something that was just so easily forgotten. Whatever the case may be, he felt hopeful for the future. Suddenly, it was looking very bright indeed.
He walked back into his house, leaving the front door ajar he was so dazed with it all. His eyes fell upon his grand piano... and the small bunch of papers resting atop it... and for the first time, in several years, a broad, true smile, that only one person could truly bring to his face, spread across his lips.
Jack was alive.
Maybe, he didn't remember him yet- maybe he never will. But he had faith.
Had it been love? He wondered. Who knows... Maybe it will be once more. But one thing he knew for sure: their duet was not yet done.
It would play again.