Chapter Text
The hallway echoed with muffled scales and the occasional crescendo as Astrid Hofferson marched down the row of practice rooms. Her massive cello case bounced against her back, the heavy fiberglass shell somehow feeling twice as heavy.
"Taken. Taken. Also taken." she muttered under her breath, her hand aggressively jiggling locked doorknobs and peeking through the narrow, reinforced glass windows. Her jaw clenched tighter.
She only had one door left at the very end of the corridor.
Without bothering to knock, she grabbed the handle and shoved the, soundproof door open, but to her frustration the room wasn't empty.
Inside, a boy sat on the edge of the piano bench with a violin tucked under his chin, caught mid-phrase of playing a melancholic melody. The moment the door cracked open his bow stopped mid-air and his green eyes flicked toward her.
For a split second, Astrid was momentarily mesmerized by that tousled auburn hair that fell messily across his forehead, the sharp jawline, and those sparkling green eyes staring back at her.
But then, her gaze shifted, and she noticed something else too. A clear plastic oxygen cannula looped under his nose, the thin trasparent tubing trailing down to a small, humming resting on the floor beside his bench.
Astrid shook her head slightly, snapping herself out of the momentary trance.
"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned. The words slipped out with exhaustion, sounding much more frustrated than rude.
The guy jumped, visibly startled by the unexpected visitor. He blinked rapidly in confusion, still holding his violin suspended in the air, his brow furrowing as he processed the angry blonde standing in the doorway.
"Uh...hi?" he asked, his voice slightly raspy.
Astrid let go of the heavy door handle, dropping her arm to her side. "I need this room," she stated flatly, her voice in one tone. "I have a major performance exam in two days, and litterly everywhere else in this building is full."
He slowly lowered his instrument, resting it carefully in his lap. "Yeah, well, so do I. And everywhere else is full."
Astrid crossed her arms defensively over her chest, her patience was pushed to the limit. "No offense, but can't you practice somewhere else? Like, literally anywhere else?"
"Wow, that's not offensive at all," he replied dryly, a sarcastic edge in his tone. "Should I just go set up in the stairwell, then? I bet the acoustics are fantastic for serenading."
Astrid let out a harsh sigh, stepping fully into the small room. The heat of pure irritation was rising fast in her cheeks. "Look... I just really need to run this piece through before I lose my mind."
"So do I," he shot back, casually reaching up to adjust the cannula. "And believe it or not, my exam is just as important as yours."
Astrid rolled her eyes hard, her arms still firmly folded. She didn't have a comeback for that. She absolutely hated that.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze catching hers, locking onto her face. He was almost sure he had seen her somewhere before. His eyes carefully looked her up and down, and after a short silence, he realized something.
"Wait I know you," he said, pointing the tip of his bow at her.
Astrid frowned at his statement.
"You are Astrid Hofferson," he continued. He stood up slowly and grabbed the thick canvas strap of his shoulder bag; the one holding his portable oxygen concentrator, and sling it over his shoulder. "You played the main cello solo at the Christmas concert last semester."
She gave a stiff, unimpressed shrug. "Well yeah, so?"
He took a step toward her. "I'm Hiccup. Nice to meet you." he politely extended his free hand toward her.
Astrid stared down at his outstretched hand for a long minute. Finally, letting out a deep breath then she reached out and grasped it.
"My pleasure," she replied, forcing her lips into an entirely sarcastic smile.
But as their hands connected, Hiccup stared deeply into Astrid's ocean-blue eyes. His grip was surprisingly firm despite his frail appearance. A sudden heat flared in Astird's chest, and she could feel a flush creeping up her neck and flooding her cheeks. Startled by the sudden intensity of the contact, she quickly snatched her hand back.
Astrid cleared her throat loudly. "Well, this was great, but the time is running and my exam is getting closer, so we need to figure out something."
"If by 'lets figure out something' you mean that you get to stay and I have to leave, then I'll just save us both time and say I'm not in,"
She exhaled sharply, aggressively rubbing her temple. "Okay. Fine. Then we can take turns or something. Half an our each?"
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What, like a joint custody agreement?" he asked, a small, genuine chuckle escaping his lips.
She gave him a flat look. "Yes. Exactly like a custody agreement. You get the room for the first half. But you better actually practice."
He smirked softly. "Deal. But I go first. I was here first."
She narrowed her eyes, glancing at that annoying smirk, and noting the tired lines under his eyes.
"Fine. I'll be out in the hallway," she snapped, turning on her heel to leave. "And you'd better set a timer on your phone, beacuse I'll be back in exactly half an our and I won't care what your opinion is about it."
Hiccup lifted the violin back to his chin. "No promises."
*
In the end, Hiccup left the practice room ten minutes before his official negotiated time was up.
He lowered his violin, letting out a long, shaky exhale through his nose. His hands were cramping again. A familiar, dull ache radiated from his knuckles all the way up to his forearms, the result of pushing his stiff joints too hard on a piece. He flexed his fingers, wincing slightly as they protested the movement. There was no point in forcing it, playing through the cramp would only make it worse for tomorrow.
With careful hands he slid the securely into it's velvet-lined case. He tucked the bow into the lid and snapped it close. Then he gathered his sheet music, tapping them against his knee to straighten the edges before sliding them neatly into a worn folder and dropping it into his backpack. He swung the heavy bag onto his back, adjusting the straps, before reaching down to grab his portable oxygen concentrator. He slung the thick, black strap over his opposite shoulder.
Finally, he grabbed the handle of his violin case and pushed the heavy door open.
Out in the hallway, Astrid was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her heavy cello case resting against her leg. She looked up immediately at the sound of the latch, her eyes wide with surprise as she checked the time on her phone. He was early.
As he stepped out of the doorway and brushed past her in the narrow corridor, Hiccup didn't stop. He simply turned his head, offering her a tired, slightly crooked half-smile and a nod.
"All your's, Hofferson," he said, his voice quiet.
Astrid straightened up, blinking in surprise. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something. Maybe thank him, maybe not. But Hiccup didn't wait to hear. He just kept walking, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the linoleum, the hum of his oxygen machine fading with every step.
Astrid stood froze in place, watching his back. Tracking his path until he finally turned the corner at the far end of the corridor and disappeared from sight.
When the hallway was completely empty again, she let out a slow breath. She reached down, her strong fingers wrapping around the thick handle of her massive cello case, lifting it up.
As she stepped forward and her hand closed over the cool doorknob, she paused. Staring at the empty space where he had just been, a small, entirely involuntary smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
*
The worn violin case bounced gently against Hiccup's thigh as he pushed through the heavy glass doors of the university building. The crisp evening air bit at his cheeks, but it felt surprisingly good after the heat of the practice room. The main bus stop was only two blocks away but Hiccup didn't head straight for it. Not yet.
Instead he took a sharp right, crossin into older, more hidden part of the town.
He stopped in front of a shop squeezed between a closed bakery and a dimly lit antique store. It was a cramped, cluttered workshop lit by warm lamps. Through the glass, strings of half-finished violins and hollow cello bodies hung suspended from the ceiling like ornaments. Every inch of wall space was packed with towering shelves filled with wind instruments, brass valves, and loose sheet music, while a massive, scratched double bass leaned heavily against the far corner.
Above the door, a wooden sign hung slightly askew. The gold sign read: Gobber's Strings & Things, though half the letters had worn off.
A brass bell jingled cheerfully as Hiccup pushed his shoulder against the heavy wood and stepped inside. He let the door swing shut behind him, immediately inhaling the smell of rosin, sawdust and old varnish.
In the center of the chaos, a broad-shouldered, bald man with a thick, braided blonde mustache was leaned aggressively over a cluttered workbench. He was currently trying to fix the bridge of a stubborn viola, muttering curses under his breath.
"Gobber!" Hiccup greeted.
The man stopped muttering, and looked up with a grin. "Ah, If it isn't Hiccup Haddock! About time you show up, lad."
"It's nice to see you too, Gobber."
"Aye don't take it to heart lad." Gobber set the viola aside with a gentle pat and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. "So what can I do for you? Or did you just come to save the old Gobber from strangling this poor instrument?"
"Something like that," Hiccup said, stepping up to the bench. carefully unslung his backpack and placed the violin case gently onto the cleared space of the wooden counter. "I think the bridge is warping again. My E string's been slipping entirely out of tune all week, no matter what I do."
Gobber sighed, wiping a layer of fine sawdust from the workbench with a rag. "You and that damn delicate fiddle. You treat it like it's made of glass."
"It basically is," Hiccup said it with a shrug. "Although Dad says I should buy a new one."
Gobber opened the case with practiced care. "Oh, absolute nonsense! Nothing that a good old-fashioned fine tuning and a bit of fresh varnish can't solve." he carefully lifted the violin from its case, the wood glowing faintly under the warm light of the desk lamp. "You're father never understood that the scars are part of the instrument, too. You can't throw away these beauties when they get a little tire. They have stories."
Hiccup nodded quietly, leaning his elbows on the counter.
Gobber squinted, bringing the instrument closer to his face. "Let's take a proper look at this." he muttered, tracing a thick thumb over the bridge. "Sit, sit!" he ordered waving a hand at a nearby wooden stool.
Hiccup pulled the stool over and sat down in front of Gobber.
Gobber put his glasses onto his nose and adjusted the neck of the lamp to see better. "Still playing that Bach piece for you solo exam?"
"Yeah," Hiccup said, reaching up to rub at his aching chest. His lungs felt tight again. "I hate it."
Gobber peered over the rim of his glasses, raising a bushy blonde eyebrow. "You hate everything your good at."
"I don't." he muttered, looking down at his sneakers.
"If you hate that piece so much, then go and pick something else."
"I can't. It's obligatory for the curriculum. It literally makes up half my final grade," Hiccup sighed, his fingers unconsciously reaching up to fiddle with his oxygen cannula.
Gobber began carefully loosening the pegs of the strings, the tension releasing with a soft hum. "Aye, well, don't be such a whiner lad! Suffer through it like the rest of us."
Hiccup rolled his eyes.
Gobber paused, the wrench completely still in his hand as he looked over the glasses at Hiccup. "You heading home after this?"
Hiccup hesitated, his smile fading. "I don't really have another choice. Still can't exactly crash at the dorms with all the machines that keep me alive."
"Hmm," Gobber rumbled thoughtfully, reaching out to pluck the loose E string. "And how's Stoick these days? Still breathing down your nech, eh?"
"Constantly," Hiccup sighed. "If he's not worried about my health, then he's worried beacuse he thinks I can't catch up on the classes I've missed due doctor's appointments."
Gobber's hands stilled. "That's not right."
"It's just how he is. I swear my life is just going to classes at university then going straight home to be in my room, all alone," Hiccup forced a smile. "But you know him. You can't change his mind about anything."
"Aye," Gobber agreed, frowning. "I'll try to talk with him when he finally decides to show his face around here. That man tends to forget about me."
"Don't bother too much. He's too stubborn to listen to anyone," Hiccup sighed, looking out the dark window.Unless he's forced to listen to orchestra rehearsals."
Gobber carefully placed the violin back into its case, leaving the lid open. "Give me 'til tomorrow. I'll fix the bridge, tune it properly and maybe give the pegs a little extra grip."
"Thanks, Gobber," Hiccup said. He stood up, adjusting the heavy strap of his oxygen bag over his shoulder.
But he stopped for a moment, lingering by the workbench. He shifted his weight, looking at the floor, like he didn't want to go home just yet.
Gobber noticed the hesitation immediately. He leaned on the workbench. "And what about you, Hiccup? Doing fine?"
Hiccup sighed. "Well, I'm still breathing. Kinda."
Gobber chuckled softly, then glanced up, his eyes softening. "You still thinking about transferring your major? Moving over to composing?"
"Maybe," Hiccup shrugged. "Not like Dad would ever let me."
"But it's your life. Your not a kid anymore," Gobber said gently. "You only get one and yours's... well a bit more time-sensitive than most."
"Gee thanks for the reminder, Gobber," Hiccup said, with a dry sarcastic smirk.
Gobber grinned broadly. "Alright, go on. Get home before Stoick starts calling me like it's my job to track you down."
Right on time, the phone in Hiccup's jeans pocket began to vibrate furiously from the series of unread messages.
Hiccup pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and groaned. "He's already doing it."
Hiccup gave a small two-finger salute and turned to leave, the doorbell jingling softly behind him.
*
They had always lived in quiet, comfortable wealth. The Haddock home was elegant, furnished with expensive, dark wooden pieces staright from the catalog, that were supposed to lend warmth to the house. But this warmth and comfort was only felt on the outside. Every single time Hiccup unlocked the heavy front door and stepped inside, he felt nothing but emptiness.
As he walked down the hallway to get to the kitchen his eyes drifted to the wall. It was plastered with framed, glossy posters of the Berk Philharmonic, various prestigious diplomas, and heavy plaques detailing Stoick's major musical recognitions. Tucked between his father's towering achievements were a few older pictures of Hiccup himself, a much younger, gap-toothed kid holding a half-sized violin in a youth orchestra, drowning in a black suit that was at least a size too big for him.
He reached the kitchen. Stoick was already there, standing beside the marble counter, stirring a spoonful of honey into a steaming mug of tea.
"You're late," Stoick noted, his deep voice carrying through the quiet room as he shot a quick, sharp glance over his shoulder.
Hiccup didn't say a word. He just let out a quiet sigh, dropping his heavy backpack onto a chair and brushing past his father to get to the sink.
"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Stoick pressed, turning around. "I told you a hundred times to text me if your going out."
And I've told you a thousand times you don't need to constantly worry about me," Hiccup shot back. He pressed his palm aggressively against the soap dispenser. "If I collapse in the street, I'm not exactly going to be the one calling you anyway." Hiccup washed his hands under the running water.
"Where were you?" Stoick asked, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Hiccup rolled his eyes, aggressively drying his hands on a linen dishtowel. "Relax Dad. I was at Gobber's. My bridge is slipping again. There's no need to freak out."
"Again?" Stoick frowned, his thick eyebrows pulling together. "It's really time to get you a new one. I told you this two months ago."
"It's fine. I don't need another one. Gobber can fix it."
"You can't attend classes with a broken violin, Hiccup" Stoick said, tapping his spoon sharply against the ceramic rim of his mug. "To be the best, you need an apropriate one. Not one that falls apart the second you put pressure on the bow."
Hiccup shook his head, throwing the towel back onto the counter. He didn't say anything else. He knew it wasn't worth getting into an argument.
Stoick took a slow sip of his tea, watching him carefully over the rim. "So... how were your classes today?"
"They were fine."
"Do you practice your solo?" It's one of the most important exams of the semester."
Hiccup gave him a flat look. "Yes, Dad."
"Good. Beacuse your performance cannot be worse than perfect. If you want to succeed in this world you need to work extra hard."
Hiccup's jaw tightened.
"Do you want some tea?" Stoick offered.
"No thanks," Hiccup muttered, moving to grab a glass of water instead.
"And have you eaten yet?" Stoick's eyes flicked down, scanning Hiccup. "Because there's still some left from yesterday's lunch in the fridge."
"I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat later."
"Hiccup, you're terribly thin," Stoick insisted, the parental anxiety creeping loudly back into his voice. "You have to eat more, especially with all the medication you're on."
"Dad, I eat," Hiccup snapped, turning around to face him. "You don't need to monitor exactly when and how much I consume."
"I just don't want your condition to worsen again. Is that what you want?"
Hiccup threw his hands up in exasperation. "Dad, seriously, are we starting this again? I really don't have the energy for this right now."
Stoick slammed his mug down on the counter. "Here comes the attack again. That I'm always breathing down your neck, checking everything you do, just lecturing you. Why can't you see that I just want to help you? I am trying to avoid a relapse!"
"We both know that forcing a few pieces of broccoli and carrots down my throat isn't going to make my lungs any less crappy!" Hiccup yelled back. "I am the one most aware of my situation, believe me!"
Stoick closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Whatever. Let's drop it." he stepped forward, placing a large, heavy, hand firmly on his son's shoulder. "Come sit down, son. I wanted to talk to you about something else."
Hiccup's stomach instantly twisted. These types of converstationes never end well.
They moved into the living room, sitting down on opposite ends of the big, dark leather couch.
Stoick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So. The Philhamonic is working on a new a show piece for next season, and I had a meeting today with the board of the directors. They want me to be not only the director of the concert but also its principal conductor."
Hiccup furrowed his brow, He was genuinely confused as to where this was going. "Okay. And?"
"I would have to work a lot of extra hours. I'll need to be at the theater everyday. The rehearsals might last from early morning until late in the evening."
"So? " Hiccup repeated, narrowing his eyes.
"So, I thought..." Stoick cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Hiccup's face. "I thought I could hire a live-in nurse for a couple hours a day, so you wouldn't be completely alone."
Hiccup froze. He was entirely shocked. His eyes widened in absolute disbelief. For a moment he didn't know what to say.
Hiccup aggressively pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Oh my god, Dad! What the hell?!" he exploded, dropping his hands to glare at his father.
"I'm just trying to find possible solutions, practical solutions, son—"
"I'm twenty years old Dad! I can take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter who's breating down my neck!"
"I know you are fine on your own and can take care of yourself," Stoick argued, holding his hands up defensively. "But I would feel much calmer if I knew a medical professional was at home..."
"Taking care of me?!" Hiccup interrupted sharply. "You constantly do this! Always going behind my back, making decisions without my consent or my opinion!"
"If I had told you beforehand, you wouldn't have even wanted to hear about it!"
"Did it even occur to you to ask what I thought about this?!" Hiccup yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
"You would have said no immediately, like you always do!" Stoick shouted back, his anger now unleashed.
"And why do you think that is, Dad?!" Hiccup's anger continued to grow, he snapped. "I'm not an old fart whose every move needs to be watched and can't go to the bathroom by himself! I'm so sick of this overprotective crap!" he shot up from the couch, glaring fiercely down at his father. "And if you seriously think that paying a stranger to watch me breath is the type of 'company' I need, you don't even know me at all."
Stoick's mouth opened. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something else, to defend his choice, but the words didn't come out. He just bowed his heavy head, staring down at the floor as he nervously fiddled with his large hands.
Hiccup left the room without another word.
The dorm room was dim, lit mostly by the glow of Astrid's phone screen, and the warm golden strings of cheap fairy lights, draped haphazardly over her headboard. Her cello case leaned against the wall nearby, untouched since she had dragged it back from practice hours ago.
She absolutely should have been reviewing fingerings. She should have been going over that problematic, finger-twisting shift in the second movement in her solo. But instead she was deep into a stranger's Instagram profile. A stranger named hic.haddock.
His posts were infrequent. A couple black and white shots of violins and an old instrument shop. Occasional blurry landscapes, and a several unapologetic pictures of a black cat.
Astrid absentmindedly chewed on the corner of her thumbnail, scrolling slowly.
He didn't have any photos of himself. There was only one single picture of him on the entire feed, and you couldn't even see his face clearly. He was standing behind wooden a workbench, wearing an apron, holding and polishing the belly of a half-finished violin. Although his face was turned away and cast in shadow, as Astrid pinched the screen to zoom in on the image, she could notice a crooked smile.
She paused on this particular photo way longer than she meant to.
A text message notification buzzed on the top of her screen, swiped it away without a second thought. She was so deep down in her stalking rabbit hole that she barely noticed the bathroom door creak open until Ruffnut's voice rang out through the quiet room.
"Is this the part where I pretend I don't see you stalking some guy?"
Astrid jumped nearly dropping her phone onto her face. She quickly sat up. "What—?" she didn't understand a word from her roommate.
Ruffnut was leaning against the doorframe, a green toothbrush shoved in her mouth and a concerning amount of white mint foam dripping down her chin. She rolled her eyes, held up a single finger, and quickly went back into the bathroom. The sound of running water and aggressive spitting followed.
A second later, she popped back out, casually wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I said this is the part where I predent I don't see you stalking some guy."
The heat rushed up Astrid's neck, her cheeks started turning red and she denied everything. "What—? No—I wasn't—" she frantically tapped the side of her phone to lock the screen.
Ruffnut didn't hesitate. She launched herself across the small room and flopped dramatically onto Astrid's mattress, the cheap springs groaning in protest as she tried to crane her neck to peer over Astrid's shoulder. "Oh my god, you so were. Who is he? Spill it right now!"
"No one," Astrid insisted sharply, turning her body sideways to shield her phone against her chest.
Ruffnut propped herself up on her elbows, giving Astrid an unimpressed look. "Do you seriously think I'm going to believe that you spent an hour breathing on the screen just watching cat reels?"
Astrid narrowed her eyes, trying to hide her embarrasment. "How do you know the cats weren't cute?"
"Maybe I share a brain with my brother, but I notice when someone has a crush," Ruffnut declared. Then, she made a sudden, fast grab for the phone.
"Ruff—hey!" Astrid tried to fend her off, throwing an elbow, but it was too late.
Ruffnut rolled onto her back, instantly waking the screen Astrid hadn't actually managed to lock. She squinted at the bright screen. "Oooo. hic.haddock..." she read aloud, her grin widening. "Wait! Hiccup Haddock? As in, Stoick Haddock's kid?"
Astrid froze. Her anger instantly replaced by intense curiosity. "Wait. You know him?"
"Uh yeah," Ruffnut scoffed, like it was obvious. "We had a few music theory classes together last semester. But we didn't talk or anything. And everyone in the strings department knows who he is. You seriously never noticed him before?
Astrid blinked, feeling incredibly stupid. "Well..."
"He was literally in the Christmas concert, too! You played the main solo! And your basically in the same department!"
Astrid Astrid threw her hands up. "I didn't notice him, okay!?"
"Fine, relax, Mozart," Ruffnut laughed, rolling over to lay flat on her stomach. "Anyway, his dad's the director of the Berk Philharmonic. And he is super intense. Like, 'breathe once again out of rythm and I'll publicly execute you with my baton' intense."
Astrid sat up straighter. "That's his dad?"
"Yup. Total legend slash nightmare." Ruffnut kept scrolling, completely ignoring Astrid's outstretched hand demanding the phone back. "Oh my god, look at this one. He's got a cat sleeping in his violin case. He's such a nerd," she mumbled.
Astrid rolled her eyes in annoyance, but she still caught herself leaning over Ruffnut's shoulder to look at the picture anyway.
She lunged forward and snatched her phone back. "Okay, okay. You've seen enough."
"Someone's got a cruuu-uuush." Ruffnut singed.
"I don't," Astrid lied flatly, desperately swiping the app closed and tossing the phone onto her nightstand so she wouldn't look again. "I just...I mean, he is..." she trailed off, unable to find an excuse that didn't sound completely pathetic. "I don't have to say anything to you, it's none of your business." and with that she turned towards the wall, and pulled her heavy blanket right over her head.
Ruffnut just lay there on the edge of the bed, a grin across her face. "Man. And I really thought this year was going to be boring."