He couldn't take it anymore.

This was getting completely out of hand, and frankly borderline creepy.

She wouldn't stop staring.

And it had been going on for weeks.

She had started coming to the coffee shop the day he was given the okay from this doctor to resume normal activities after the car accident, one that hadn't been a good one, taken the fact that it cost him his left leg right below the knee.

Hiccup was glad he didn't remember the accident. Who would?

All that was left was this lingering sense that he was forgetting something; a sense that he had long since learned to ignore with the months of recovery that he had to indure.

And then there was this girl.

Every day since he had been back, without fail, she would come into the store with her backpack slung over her shoulder, laptop in hand, order a non-fat chai latte with extra whipped cream, avoid eye contact as much as she could with him as she ordered and paid, waltz on over the same small corner table that looked over the whole of the quaint café, plop down, open her laptop, plug in her headphones and wait patiently for him to bring her morning dose of sugar over.

And he was beginning to completely loose his mind over it all.

Because it didn't matter what he was doing. Every time he would glance in her direction, she would be staring at him with a look he couldn't decipher. He rarely ever saw her typing anything, which is what most people her age would be doing, considering she looked about his age and should be in college if that was the case, but he began to pick up on the fact that she would only really click her mouse pad every 2 and a half minutes, and either stare at him, or stare off into the distance at something on one of the shelves with that same look on her face.

Just like she was doing right now.

As soon as he looked in her direction again, she looked away.

Just like she always did.

This had to stop. Now.

They were the only ones in the Café, save for one of his co-workers and an elderly gentleman in the opposite corner with a newspaper. All things considered, the potential of making a scene was much less likely, which he was grateful for.

"Hey," he tried from the other side of the counter. No response.

Hiccup walked out and around the counter and straight up to the table. "Astrid, right?" he tried again, slightly louder this time, but her eyes seemed dazed and confused, completely lost in a forlorn thought.

So he did what any rational, docile yet frustrated adult would in this situation.

He pulled the headphone jack straight from its socket on her laptop.

So much for not making a scene, Hiccup.

"Alright, look—"

He was suddenly met with a voice coming through the speakers of the laptop.

His voice.

"—Just got finished at the garage and I'll be home. Sorry I'm later than normal, Gobber needed some extra help with this busted up Volkswagen that came in 30 minutes before close, so I'm sure you can imagine how that went. Anyways, I'm on Nadder right now, so I should be home in about 15 or so minutes. I can't wait to see you, give Toothless a big kiss for me, love you, bye."

All he could do was stare at her, eyebrows creased together in absolute confusion.

And of course, she was staring right back at him.

"Who are you?"

She just stared at him, eyes searching for something. They began to glass over and he could practically see her throat tighten before she opened her mouth to respond to him. "I—I, um…" a tear slipped over the edge but she didn't seem to notice. She bit her lip and raked a shaky hand through her long, golden hair, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before looking back up at him. She looked so lost and helpless as another tear found its way down the side of her face, and he felt the sudden urge to wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay and he didn't know why.

"Do you remember the car accident you were in?"

How did she—

"Of—of course I remember, but how in the hell do you—"

"Did you know that you died?"

Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, like someone whose throat had been tight from holding back agonizing screams for far too long.

There was another tear.

"I—I didn't…there's—I was breathing when the paramedics—"

"You were dead for 6 hours."

He could only stare at her now, unable to take in the utter bullshit that was obviously coming out of her mouth.

"I—I was not—"

"Hiccup, please—" It was so quiet he almost questioned whether or not he had heard it. Her eyes were screwed shut and lip gently quivering, but she had said his name. Not his actual name, but his nickname only very few people who were close to him actually knew, much less used. So how did she know it?

"How do you—?"

"Because when I found out you were dead I was approached by someone who said they could bring you back to life, but at the cost of you forgetting me, forgetting us. So of course I said yes, because having you alive is so much better than you being dead but it's been eating me alive and I don't know how much more of this I can take."

She wasn't holding back the tears now.

"I come in here every day because it's all I can do to stop myself from completely losing my mind. I listen to that recording each day because it's the last thing I have from you from before the accident and it's the only thing giving me hope that maybe one day you'll somehow remember me, us." Astrid brings a hand over to mouth to stifle a sob that wracks though her body. "And I don't know how much longer I can go on like this, Hiccup. I need you, but you're not mine anymore, and I can't even begin to tell you how much that hurts." She wipes a few tears away and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"And I know you probably think I'm crazy, and you're probably totally freaked out right now and you have every right to be, but I just—" She took a strangled breath in, closing her eyes to try and compose herself before she suddenly began to pack her things in a hurried manner. "I'm sorry, I just—I can't do this right now, this is wrong, I need to—I'm sorry."

She was getting up to leave and he was still trying to process the hell out of the words that had just come out of her mouth, but his hand seemed to reach out for her arm as she quickly strode by him on its own accord.

"Hang-hang on, just wait a minute—"

He saw her bite her lip, another tear rolling down the side of her face and by god he had to figure this out because no one could be in this much pain and not somewhat be telling the truth.

And yet she pulled away.

"I'm sorry."

It was the smallest, saddest voice he had heard, and his heart still ached for him to grab her and pull her into his arms and tell her everything was alright and dammit he didn't know why.

But he stood there, arm still outstretched as he watched her walk out the door. He stood there for a while, attempting to comprehend why his brain was screaming at him to run after her.

Hiccup shook his head, and he brought his hand up to his forehead to rub at it as if it would somehow force how he knew her back into his jumbled brain.

He was stopped short by something glinting off the floor from under the table, and he let his confused gaze fall to the object. It only took him several brief seconds to realize that it was a photo.

He bent down to pick it up, and immediately recognized the people in the photo, and his mind spun with even more questions than before.

It was him and Astrid. She was pressed into his side, smiling brightly into the camera she much have been holding, and there he was, lips pressed onto her temple as he gazed in the other direction, a prominent smile on his lips, poking out from behind shining golden strands of hair.

Gods, he looked happy. So undeniably happy and his brain reeled as he stared at the photo, unable to take his eyes off of it.

Something wasn't right, nothing was adding up as he was trying to remember things from before the accident, and he couldn't put things together in his head and—.

Shit, he needed to find her.