Hiccup's P.O.V.

I could swear she was crying when she was in the bathroom. I went outside and saw Astrid running to the trees, seeming to be wiping her face or something. I glanced at the pool and saw Eret laughing at the side of the hot tube with a mixture of my friends and his. I then found myself unconsciously running after Astrid. When I reached the trees, I heard someone screaming, followed by a bunch of pounding. I followed the sounds before seeing Astrid attacking a tree in a clearing. I stared in shock as she punched the bark; I'd never seen her act like this. She was raking her nails over the trunk as she screamed about someone being an over-zelled son of a half-troll, or something. I saw red flash in the light of the white Christmas lights and noticed the same red on the bark of the tree.

"Astrid!" I shout as I shoot forward and grab her fist when she's about to strike the bark again.

"T-Toothpick?" she sounded confused as I grabbed her other hand and inspected her knuckles. They were torn to shreds and I swear I saw bone or something.

"Yeah, Toothpick. Come with me," I order as I pull her back toward the house. I take her inside and pull her upstairs before taking her to the bathroom and closing the door.

"What are we doing?" she asks slowly.

"Don't pretend that you're not in extreme agony," I say as I throw open a cabinet and pull out a first-aid kit.

"Okay, yeah. It hurt's a little," she admits as I run the warm water and pull her hands under the faucet. I grab a washcloth and gently wipe away the blood and unsave-able skin, making her hiss in pain.

"Okay, I have a feeling me calling you slut wasn't what caused you to go crazy on that tree," I say as I pull out some hydrogen peroxide.

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't," she says as I pour the liquid onto her knuckles.

"Come on, Astrid. I might not know you that well, but I do know that you're tougher than that," I tell her as I wipe the fizz away and pour more.

"Why are you even doing this? Isn't this whole thing, like, against your rules or something?" she asks.

"My dad said there's actually nothing wrong with going to a party as long as I'm back by curfew. And I know for a fact that helping an injured classmate is smiled upon by my family," I tell her.

"So you're doing this to get a leg up on your dad?"

"You took that the wrong way. Just hold still," I say as I sanitize her other hand and wrap them both in a thick layer of gauze with a cream.

Astrid's P.O.V.

I was shocked at how gentle Toothpick was being. I honestly thought he hated me because of my free spirit. He finishes wrapping my hands before holding my left one and gently rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. I froze as he lifted his gaze to mine, his eyes blank but deep.

"We should, uh...probably get back outside before people start asking questions," he says, releasing my hand and walking toward the door. He pauses, his hand hovering over the door knob, as I sit on the counter. "You comin'?" he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.

"Uh, I think I'll just hang out in here for a few minutes," I tell him with a sigh. I seriously couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the smallest malfunction could kill my brother. I heard Toothpick sigh before he walks back to me and sits on the other side of the sink.

"The hostess shouldn't be alone at her own party," he says.

"Y-...Nice job with my knuckles. Thanks..." I said after a pause, looking at the bloodied gauze.

"No problem," he says.

"So, do you really have to follow a whole bunch of rules, all set by your father?" I ask awkwardly.

"Yeah. He's been uptight ever since my mom...um..." he trailed off.

"I-I'm sorry," I say, assuming the worst.

"She's still alive but we don't know where she is," he explains.

"Then..." I trailed off in confusion.

"She used to work at at ER," he explains, "One week she was doing a double shift everyday until she fell asleep and got fired. She loved that job. When they let her go, she went into depression and felt like she couldn't help my dad and I as much as when she was employed. So, she taught me some stuff about medicine, packed her things, and left us. She still keeps in touch with me but she won't tell me where she lives."

"All the same, I'm sorry," I tell him. "I--uh--I lost my father in a slightly similar way," I continue after a pause, "He was the best at his job, but they wouldn't promote him. He couldn't preform to his best ability and even that is enough to plunge someone into the depths of depression. He stopped thinking, started drinking. When he was drunk, you had to stay away, because it would be just too pitiful for anyone to watch. Eventually, one night, he called my brother, mother, and I to the yard. We could tell right away that he was far from his right state of mind." 

I started to cry as memories filled my head. "He pulled out a 9mm gun and shot himself in the head. Both he and my mother were great lawyers, and I have no idea why he would take his life, even if he couldn't get higher in his profession. I feel like it's all my fault. I couldn't do anything to get him to stop and think about what he'd be doing to his family. I died with him that night. So did the rest of my family. My mother took drinking, started to take anger out on Alex and I. I stopped paying attention to things going on around me, Alex stopped being cautious. I think we were all just trying to end our own suffering and join him." I put my elbows on my thighs to prop myself up as I cried into my hands. "Depression kills, Toothpick."