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It’s always nice when Heather visits, Hiccup thinks.
She always insists they shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but the twins plead with her to make yak chops, and they all make a big deal and a night out of it, sit around a firepit near the forest, chat and share anecdotes until the moon is far past the middle of the night sky. Because it’s not like she’s around all that often– no, she’s by far the newest addition to their group– so really, how could she have known?
“So I said,” Heather laughs, and they laugh with her even though she hasn’t gotten to the funny part yet, “what kind of dragon do you want? And he says, Zippleback. And I said, okay. Do you have another person to ride it with? And he goes, no, do I need one?”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut are in tears, slapping their thighs and doubling over, and it’s not even that funny, but Hiccup is hysterical too– it’s probably the mead, mixed with adrenaline and whatever else. Astrid snorts, grinning, and Snotlout’s face is buried in Fishlegs’ chest, his shoulders heaving rapidly as he tries not to burst out laughing.
Heather takes a bite of her yak chop, swallows, and continues, “So I was like, uhh, yeah, you kinda need another person. And he goes, why? And I– I kind of just stared at him? Because– like, what was I meant to say to that?”
“What could you say?” Fishlegs chuckles. “I mean, it’s pretty much– like, how–”
“I know, it’s, like, practically useless without another person…”
Hiccup flinches slightly at the word, memories flooding back to him like they’ve been injected into his veins like the most potent poison Fishlegs keeps on his shelf, and it’s like everyone except Heather has picked up on his discomfort, because all their heads slowly swivel towards him, and he inhales shakily. Heather blinks. “Uh– Hiccup, are you good?”
And Hiccup wants to let it go. Because Heather’s here. And she didn’t know. And she doesn’t need to see him upset, doesn’t even need to know about his past, or else what was the begging the others not to tell her for? So Hiccup exhales, and smiles softly, says, “No, no, it’s– it’s okay, it’s fine. Nothing.”
Heather frowns. “Come on, Hiccup. You don’t have to tell me, but don’t insult my intelligence– there’s obviously something wrong. Was it– was it something I said?”
Hiccup starts to shake his head, but Astrid sighs, and says, “Yeah, but– but don’t worry, it’s fine.”
And maybe it’s the mead, maybe it’s the pent–up resentment towards his friends that he’s always known he harbours deep down, but suddenly, Hiccup isn’t as prepared to let this go as he was a few seconds ago.
“That’s– you can’t say it’s okay, Astrid,” he finds himself blurting out, and she looks at him in slight shock. “Sorry?”
“You can’t say it’s fine. I mean, it is fine, but that didn’t– that didn’t affect you, that affected me, and you don’t have the right, to– to accept any apologies on my behalf, or– or anything like that,” he continues, slightly surprised at his ability to articulate his thoughts. Snotlout tilts his head. “What– what do you mean, Hiccup?”
Hiccup laughs incredulously, looking away. “I mean, I– I mean, you all– you bullied me for years. For literally the first fifteen years of my life, I was– I was alienated, and ostracised, and you guys only cared about me when I trained a dragon, for Thor’s sake.”
“I was your friend, Hiccup,” Fishlegs says softly, green eyes boring into his skull with a reproachful look, and Hiccup sighs. “You weren’t. None of you were, not really. In private, maybe, but– but you were just as bad.” His voice breaks halfway through the last sentence, and Snotlout stares at him, betrayal written all over his face. “Hiccup-”
“I thought you forgot about that,” Ruffnut says sheepishly, and Tuffnut nods. “Yeah, me too– didn’t you say it was fine?”
“I didn’t forget,” Hiccup snaps. “How could I forget? I– I, I– Thor, I said it was fine, but that shouldn’t have been enough for you guys.”
“How were we supposed to know?” Astrid says, her voice beginning to display the telltale signs of anger that Hiccup knows like the back of his hand, and he sighs again, frustrated, so frustrated, and it builds up and up and he yells, “How would you feel, Astrid?”
Everybody is silent.
Hiccup takes this as an opportunity, and continues, “How would you feel if you spent your whole life trying to be good enough for your family and your peers and– and yourself, and you never were because of stupid arbitrary bullshit, and you– you practically lived in this deep fucking pit of self–hatred and despair and you wanted to die, and you–” he pauses to breathe heavily, forces his gaze away from his girlfriend– his girlfriend– “You nearly did die. You tried to die. You thought it would be better, because, because everyone called you Useless, and your name literally meant ‘mistake’, so you thought it would be better that way, and nobody even cared when you went missing for days on end, not even your dad, and you didn’t feel like a person ninety percent of the time?” His words have devolved into bitter, spiteful ramblings, but he’s too tired, too spent to care.
“And then, and then you– you train a dragon, and as soon as you do, people love you, and it’s like– it’s like whiplash. They hated me, and then they loved me. They hated me–” he chokes on a gasp– “And then they loved me, and I didn’t get it, and I almost thought it had never happened, because nobody ever mentioned it, nobody ever talked about before, when I was bullied and abused by the entire village, everybody just moved on because for you guys it was just a normal Týsdagr, and for me it– it broke me. It shaped me. I’m still– I can’t let it go, and I don’t think I should have to. I’m just so tired,” he sobs, burying his face in his hands, not looking up to see anybody’s reaction. He doesn’t have to.
“Hiccup,” Astrid breathes, and Hiccup manages a small, “You never even said sorry,” before dissolving into tears. He looks up and says, louder, “You never even fucking said sorry! We’re– fuck, w–we’re living on an island together! And you never, you– you never even said sorry, you didn’t say sorry, you– I feel like everyone else moved on and I haven’t, I can’t, you didn’t even say sorry!” He screams this last part, and it’s so loud, and Hiccup is never that loud, but tonight, at this stupid fireside dinner party, screaming feels so good, so, so– so freeing.
He breathes heavily, the adrenaline leaving his body. Heather makes a sympathetic noise, and says, her voice shaky, “I’m so sorry, Hiccup. Honestly, I didn’t–”
“It’s okay,” Hiccup says hastily. “It’s really okay. I promise. I’m– I’m sorry, for… for ruining tonight. I’m going to go.” He stands up, wiping his eyes, walking lopsidedly away from his friends, leaving them stunned and upset, and–
And for once, he doesn’t care.
Hiccup sleeps for a long time.
It’s the most sleep he’s gotten in a while, probably about ten or so hours. The events of the previous night come back to him in a rush, about five seconds after he’s woken up, and he’s filled with a sense of dread, because– because what the fuck is he going to do now? Go back to Berk? Wait for everybody to calm down and then apologise? Wait for himself to calm down and then politely voice his feelings? Gods, it’s all so humiliating– and he can’t even imagine what Heather must think of him. No, he won’t go out. He’ll stay here and draw, he can survive without food for a while. It’s not like he hasn’t before.
Hiccup looks around for Toothless, sighs as he realises his friend must have gone to eat or socialise with the other dragons. He adorns his prosthetic, tapping it on the floor a few times to make sure it’s on properly, and glances over to where his sketchbook always–
Oh.
“Hey, do you know where I put my sketchbook?” Hiccup sighs, and Astrid hands it to him, along with his favourite charcoal pen. “I don’t know why you’re bringing it. Seriously, we’ll be talking the entire time.”
“Well, you know me,” he grins. “I need something to keep my hands occupied, or I’ll–”
“Subconsciously play with and mess up my hair, I know,” Astrid groans lightheartedly. “Okay, come on– I want to get to the Clubhouse before it gets dark. I got bat shit on my skirt the other day.”
“Ew.”
The conversation, despite having been only yesterday afternoon, seems a lifetime away after last night. He groans, making sounds akin to dramatic sobbing as he realises he’ll have to go to the Clubhouse to retrieve his sketchbook– fuck, fuck fuck fuck– and then he remembers that the others will probably be hungover, they won’t be there, they’ll be in bed, asleep, until the late morning or early afternoon. Okay. Hiccup breathes a sigh of relief, lets his shoulders fall, stands up. This is okay. This will be okay.
Hiccup walks along the bridges to the Clubhouse. It’s a nice day, the birds chirping in a way that doesn’t make him feel like his head is being split in half and the trees blowing in a cool, gentle breeze. It’s really a pity he can’t enjoy it properly, what with having ruined nearly every friendship he has. Whatever. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out through his nose, and continues along the bridge.
He enters the Clubhouse and reels back at the sight of Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut sitting around the table, bags under all their eyes– they haven’t slept, for whatever reason. Hiccup averts his gaze, determined not to make eye contact with any of them, and picks his sketchbook and charcoal up from their place on the chair next to the Maces and Talons board. Looking back up, he notices they’re all staring at him, and he says, very awkwardly, “H–Hi.” He curses his stutter, hates that it’s returned now of all moments, sighs, and mutters, “Okay, I’m gonna go now.”
As he makes to exit, Astrid’s arm shoots out, and she exclaims, “Wait!”
Hiccup turns around, surprised. She bites her lip, and nobody says anything for a minute.
“I’m s–sorry,” Hiccup says finally, when the silence is too much to bear. “I shouldn’t have– have– I shouldn’t have said any o–of the– of that last night. I–I’m sorry.”
Fishlegs makes a distressed noise. “No, Hiccup–”
“We wanted to apologise to you, Hiccup,” Astrid says quietly, and Hiccup blinks. “I– oh. Oh.”
“Everything you said last night,” Snotlout begins, “was completely true. We shouldn’t have let it go so quickly, we shouldn’t have acted like we were always perfect friends–”
“Or even friends at all,” Tuffnut says, and Ruffnut nods solemnly. Snotlout gives them a small smile, and continues, “It shouldn’t have been enough for us, that you said it was fine. It really shouldn’t, and we are really–”
“Really–”
“Really sorry,” Astrid finishes, and Hiccup stares at her, something warm in his chest, suffocating him, but, surprisingly, not in a particularly bad way.
“We don’t expect you to forgive us right away, or at all,” Fishlegs says, his features contorted in obvious sadness, shame, something else. “We just need you to know that we’re so sorry that we ever made you feel like… that we told you, that you were… useless.” Hiccup flinches at the word, and Fishlegs smiles apologetically. Hiccup returns it.
“And for Thor’s sake,” Ruffnut says, a ghost of a grin on her face, “don’t kill yourself. I hate that you– I hate that we ever made you feel like you had to. We love you.”
Hiccup thinks this is what breaks him.
“You–” he takes a deep breath, trying not to let his emotions, whatever they may be, get the better of him– “y–you love me?”
Astrid sniffs, tears visibly welling in her eyes. “Of course we do,” she says, voice thick with emotion, and Hiccup turns away, because he’s going to cry, and he doesn’t want them to see again. But Snotlout– damn him, bless him– knows him all too well, and says gently, “Hiccup? Are you… are you alright?”
And Hiccup lets himself collapse to the floor, lets the others crowd around him, lets them touch his shoulders and his hair and his face and his back, lets himself cry, and lets them do it with him. “You love me,” he sobs, and Tuffnut gives a tearful laugh. “We love you. We love you so much.”
“You love me,” Hiccup repeats, struggling to breathe through his tears. “You love me, you love me, you love me–”
“We love you,” Snotlout murmurs. “We love you. You’re okay. You’re loved.”
“You’re so loved,” says Astrid, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
And they’re right, because Hiccup can’t forgive them right away. And it will take a while, a long while.
But now, having vented his frustrations and reassured that he is loved he is loved they love him they love him, he’s certain that he’ll be able to.
Eventually.