HTTYD: You Don't Know the Meaning of "Nice"? (Hiccstrid)

Chapter 9

Astrid's P.O.V.

Hiccup grabs my arm before pulling me up the hall, passed my apartment. He opens his door and shoves me in before locking it behind him. He faces me before nodding to the couch. "Sit down," he says before walking to the kitchen as I do as he said. I didn't think he was gonna hurt me, per se, but I wasn't positive. I pull out my phone to text my mom but Hiccup snatches it from my hand before replacing it with a glass of water. "No phone, yet. It's a distraction," he tells me, making me wonder what he was gonna do. He was on his knees in front of me and had a small box on the table next to him. I put the glass on the coffee table as he tucks my phone into his back pocket.

"Not thirsty," I tell him quietly as he looks at me. He pauses before moving to the couch and sitting on my left, making me go ridged. He reaches for my braid and, thinking he was gonna pull it like my mom does, I jerk away, trying to get out of his reach.

"It's okay, Astrid," he says slowly, "I just want to look at something." That didn't settle my nerves a whole bunch. Last time I heard the words 'I just want to look at something' was when my dad...uh...never mind, you guys shouldn't be subjected to it...

"Please don't," I try to keep my voice from whimpering but fail miserably.

"Don't what?" he asks. My throat tightens uncomfortably, preventing me from answering as the lump slowly and painfully grows in my neck. "Does this hurt?" Hiccup asks softly and a moment later I feel his thumb stroke my ear gently. What was he doing? I hesitantly shake my head. "Okay, stay still," he says and I kinda have no choice but to obey. I mean, I could not move, even if I tried. My muscles just kinda shut down.

Hiccup's P.O.V.

I follow the strand of Astrids hair through her ear and into the braid, draped over her shoulder. She was stiffer than a board as I moved my fingers over the weaving hair clusters, closing in on the hair tie at the bottom. Once I reach it, I untie it and put it around my wrist before slowly undoing her braid, her hair soft as silk on my fingers. I carefully grab the strand of gold and pull it out of the hole in her ear. I then brush it behind her ear to see that the hole was the size of a bullet. I wanted to ask her how she got it but, judging by her stiffness, she wasn't about to tell me anything any time soon. The hole was coated in dried blood and it was red around the edges; it was infected. I grab the first aid kit from the coffee table and pull out a washcloth and the Hydrogen Peroxide.

"Lay down," I order, trying to seem nonthreatening. Astrid lays on her side and rests her head on the arm rest. "Perfect," I say slowly as I grab a cotton ball. I tuck it into her ear channel and she holds it in place with her index finger. "Thank you," I say, opening the bottle of Peroxide, "This might sting a little." I hold the washcloth under her ear and pour the liquid on the hole, hearing Astrid hiss air through her teeth. This thing wasn't very old at all. The Peroxide fizzes on the rim of the hole, making a white foam form. I wait for it to stop producing foam before wiping it away and pouring more Peroxide on, pleased to see less whiteness. I repeat the process two more times before it finally stops fizzing. I then grab some ointment and spread it all around the hole to help with the infection.

"Okay, lets just let that dry," I say softly as I cap the tube and put everything back before she sits up. I gently grab her shoulders and turn her so she has her back to me, and start braiding her hair. "Do you want it tight?" I ask and she nods silently. "How'd you get that hole in your ear?" I blurt out.

"Um...armed robbery," she says and I could instantly tell it was a lye.

"Astrid, tell me the truth," I order.

"I did," she tells me.

"No you didn't," I say.

"My word against yours," she says.

"Fine, then what did the shooter look like? Where was it?" I ask.

"Uh..." she says, trying to think of an excuse.

"Exactly," I say before she sighs.

"Fine, it wasn't an armed robbery, but I'm still not telling you," she tells me.

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because no one can change the past..."

Monday

Hiccup's P.O.V.

Well, Astrid avoided me all weekend. All I want to say is she's lucky the infection in her ear didn't spread to her ear drum. She was a very interesting girl and the less she talks to me, the more I'm intrigued by her. The way she walked confidently when there are obviously giant problems in her life (not including me), the fact that she hid her ear instead of telling someone, how she never asks for help, the amount of fights she's been in since she got here, and yet everyone still fairly likes her; everything about her made me want her. I'm broken from my thoughts as the History teacher slams a book on my desk. I look at her to see she was staring at me blankly as the class snickered, except Astrid who was just taking notes from the board.

"Um, can you repeat the question?" I ask and the teacher rolls her eyes.

"There was no question. I saw you staring into space. That's Astrid's thing," she says and the class laughs.

"It's not staring into space! It's called thinking! It's what people with brains do, you should try it sometime," Astrid snaps and the class murmurs together as the teacher glares at her. Did I mention I loved how brave she was? I don't think anyone else in this school would dare speak to a teacher like that.

"Astrid," Teacher says but said girl was already on her way for the door.

"On it," she calls in exasperation as she walks out. She's too used to being sent to the principals office.

Astrid's P.O.V.

It was a suggestion! But, teachers have to demand respect, like someone I know. There is seriously nothing they can do to guilt trip me any more. They can't play the "how would you feel if someone did that to you?" card any more because it has happened to me, and how I felt, was no different. My response to that card used to be, "Well, I don't know because it never has." Now, it's just a roll of my eyes. They could threaten to turn me back over to my father and it wouldn't change my behavior.