When Different Worlds Collide

Chapter 27

Hey, guys! I hope you enjoy this part! Happy reading!

Jack

Frick. Fudge. Feck. Frack. Farge. Fark. Fuster cluck. Futher mucker. Anna is going to kill Hans if I don't stop it.

Elsa and I both rushed to the door at the same time. I blocked her with my arm.

"What are you doing?!" she said, trying to get past me.

"Making sure that Hans is not a bruised popsicle by the morrow," I said.

"Wha-" she said. "I have no idea what you're implying."

I gave her an amused look and pointed down to her curled fists. She looked down and an embarrassed blush started on her face.

"Oh," she said, noticing some of her ice powers crackling beneath her still-clenched fists (it was a good thing she still had them clenched, or else we would all be in Winter Wonderland right now). Her magic immediately stopped and she looked up at me. "All right. Now can we go?"

"Nope," I smiled cheekily as I skillfully squeezed myself into the small opening I had sneakily opened when she was too busy trying to argue with me. I heard a surprised yelp come from her as I slammed the door in her face. I put all my weight against the door as I felt it try to barge open.

"Jack Frost! You open this door right now!" she yelled. "Or you're going to be the popsicle!"

"Sorry, snowflake, as much as I'd like to see that pretty face of yours, I kind of, sort of want Hans to have no hard feelings for me (not that he doesn't already) and get back my painting," I said through the door. "Hiccup, Merida, Rapunzel, you know what to do."

"What do you mean they know what to d- Hey! Stop it! Merida, get your hands off of me! Hiccup, what do you think you're doing?! Rapunzel!"

"We've got her for now, Jack," Hiccup said, a grunt coming from him (I suspect that Elsa kicked him). "Hurry up and get to Anna before we all turn to human Olafs!"

"Thanks, guys," I said as I ran, hoping that I wasn't too late and that Hans wasn't a knuckle sandwich by now.

..~..

I found him in the stable room (yeah, yeah, our school has a stable room where there's horses and okay, maybe a few dragons in there). I let out a huge gust of air when I saw that he didn't look to be beaten up or anything.

"Hans," I said, coming over to where he was sitting just in front of his horse, Sitron's, (I honestly like the horse better than him, but that's not the point right now) stall.

He looked up from him shining his boots (of course. He was always such a vain guy. Probably polished it so freaking much that he could see his face into it) and smirked. "Well, well, two visitors in less than an hour. How surprising."

Wait. Two visit- Oh no.

"Anna was here?"

"Of course she was, Frost," he glared at me. "Tried to scare me by 'beating me up.' Really, did she think that that punch had any strength to it at all? How pathetic.

"Such a shame that you have friends like her," he said, smirking. "You really did have the potential to be at the top. Still do. But it's quickly fading away every time you hang out with those...oh, how should I say this as nice as possible? Those idiots."

I could feel my powers starting to crackle. It was a good call to have made Elsa stay behind because I was already starting to get fed up with this guy. Imagine what she would do if she were here.

"Look, Hans," I said, trying to keep my voice level, "I'm not here to talk about what my social status. I'm just here to get back my painting."

"Oh, you mean this thing?"

I felt my heartbeat quicken when he pulled out my painting from behind him. Thankfully, it still looked the way I had left it in my room. I was pretty surprised to see that there were no tears, wrinkles, or visible marks that had looked like it had been touched (because as Rapunzel would guiltily say, 'Some people just don't know how to handle art.')

Well I guess Hans is a few of those exceptions.

"Give it back, Hans," I said.

He chuckled. "How cute. Jack Frost sounding like a five-year-old on the playground asking for his toy back."

I bit my tongue from saying something my mom would have made me pay my whole college tuition in the swear jar.

"Hans. Give. It. Back."

"And why should I?"

"Well why did you even steal it in the first place?"

"Easy," he said. "I stole something from you because you stole something from me."

"Hey, you were the one who left your prissy handkerchief in the dorm-"

"I'm not talking about the handkerchief, Jack," he gave me an icy glare. "I'm talking about Anna."

"Anna?" I said incredulously. Was he being serious? "Hans, you didn't even like her when you two were going out."

"You're not wrong there, Frost," he chuckled. His features hardened. "But she did have something that I did like: Money.

"It was all going perfectly, my 'relationship' with Anna. I really had her wrapped around my finger.

"Until little, nosy Jack Frost was somewhere where he wasn't supposed to be and ruined everything," he growled. He pointed an accusatory finger at me. "You and your big mouth are to be blamed for everything going downhill!"

"It's called telling the truth," I retorted. "And you and your dumb goons weren't even supposed to be out on the football field after school, bragging to each other about how smart and clever each of you were. It wasn't my fault that you decided to shout to the whole world that Anna was a 'creepy, hyperactive goldfish whose only good thing she had going for her was her money' and that in no time, you were going to be richer than rich."

He glowered at me. "Why you little-"

I held my hand up. "Enough, Hans. That was a year ago. You've done what you've done and you can't change it. If this is the reason why you stole my painting, then you're just a sad, little coward who can't own up to his mistakes."

He stood up quickly, rage written all over his face. Something crossed his face though and he slowly sat back down.

"Fine. You win, Frost," he said calmly. A little too calmly for someone who was just called out. "You can have your painting back." He held out my painting to me, a smile on his face.

I wasn't standing too close to him, maybe two or three feet away, so I cautiously started walking my way towards him. I was about to grab my painting when he suddenly pulled it back.

"Oh, wait," he said, mockingly sweet, "there's something missing to this."

My heart all but stopped to what he did next. Time seemed to have slowed down yet speed up at the same time.

With quick, devastating ease, Hans ripped my painting. Once, twice, five times he did so, ripping my painting into small shreds. He stood up, a smirk on his face. And as he passed my frozen form, he whispered,

"Oops. I am so deeply sorry, Jack. But it's like you said, isn't it? What's done is done and I can't change it.

"Have a nice day, Frost," he chuckled as he shouldered past me, leaving me to stare at the ruins of my work.