I know how you feel.

Actually, maybe that's too bold a statement. I know what it feels like is more of what I was going for, but now even those words don't taste right in my mouth.

I don't think I'd ever tell you that thought. There's no reason anyone like… me should be talking to, well, you. Actually there isn't anyone like me, there's just me. Hiccup the useless. And there isn't and room in the life of Astrid Hofferson for the likes of the disappointment of Berk.

So I'll keep this hidden away here, in this book and in my head. Even though I'm tempted to just erase my name from it and just slip it through your window, I'll never have enough courage for that.

My mother was taken when I was young. Everyone knows the story so there's no sense in rehashing it. You know something? It's funny in a sort of macabre way. I can't remember a single thing about her. Maybe her voice. Maybe how she used to sing me to sleep but I was too young for that. I was just a baby. Can a baby remember stuff like that? Or do we just create false memories to fill in the gaps? Maybe we do. Maybe I do. Maybe that's what I thought her voice might sound like when I wake up from a nightmare. I focus on the melody and not the words. I focus on the pitch of her voice and the smoothness and confidence, the warmth if you will. That's what I remember. I'm told lots of things. Like how she was as beautiful as Sif and fit for Thor's right hand. How she was ferocious when it came to protecting me. How she was headstrong but smart. Really smart. But no one ever tells me I'm like her. I wish someone would. Just so I could relate to someone. But they don't. And I can't.

I feel like my life would be better with her in it. I wouldn't be Hiccup the Useless. I'd just be Hiccup. Her Hiccup. She could roll her eyes and smile when I came up with some new crazy contraption or hug me when I had a bad day. I always have bad days. That's what happens when you're the disappointment of the village. There's never anything good. I come home to either an empty home or one filled with nothing but tension and cold. My dad may love me in some small way. He keeps me fed but that's about all. We don't talk, we don't laugh. How can we? We have nothing in common. There's nothing that we share.

I wouldn't have to have any thrashings or take any scolding if mom were here. She'd protect me. No one does though. No one cares enough to do so.

Sometimes he apologizes and for a moment it looks like he cares. But as quickly as it comes it goes. A fleeting moment that I try to grip onto but it floats away. It's like a dream. The more I reach for it, the faster it fades.

I'm rambling.

I'm just so… lonely. And I know how that feels. And I know that you know how that feels. I can see it when you walk past me. The slumped shoulders, the circles under tired eyes. You lost your sparkle, you know? It's gone. The light that was bright and blinding behind your brilliant eyes is gone. It doesn't make you any less beautiful, it's just sad to see. But I see the same thing in the mirror each day, and I have for the past fifteen years. The life has been sucked out of you and each day is harder to deal with than the last. They say it has to get worse to get better. Maybe. But I find that it never gets better. Sorry. For me at least it never has.

I know it sounds stupid, but every time I see you walking by I just want to hold you and make sure that you still feel… something. Whether it be anger or sadness. Nothing is worse than emptiness. Than feeling nothing. That's a pit of no return. That's when we give up.

About two years ago I tried to kill myself. Little known fact. The only people who know are my father, Gobber and Gothi. Shameful, he called it. A disgrace on our name. The Gods look down unfavorably on us because of it.

I slit my wrists and went right up to my elbows. Gobber found me quick enough after I passed out and they fixed me up. It was when I didn't leave the house for a month. Not that you would have noticed. No one did. Or maybe they actually did. Nothing was messed up. No hiccups in the process.

No wound ever heals, Astrid. These scars on my arms will never go away. I cover them with long sleeved tunics. My mother's passing never healed either, just like your loss won't heal all the way. Pain like that only scabs over the wound and it can easily be ripped off again. It's only lying in wait for the next time.

It's like that symbol, the one with the snake eating its own tail. It keeps going round and round. I don't know if I regret having lived or not. Most nights I just lie there. Sleep doesn't come easily. If it does it isn't for long. Nightmares of all kinds plague me. Your face seems to do it too. That's all I can remember from them. I wake up with your face still in my head and I can feel the emptiness growing and sucking in everything. And I want to just be held. Just one hug. I want one hug.

But I'll never get that. Not from you. Not from anyone here. You don't know I exist. Or maybe you do. Just for the mistakes I make. That's what everyone remembers about me. The mistakes. You probably just think of me as worthless just like everyone else.

But maybe you see yourself as that now. That emptiness I was talking about. I can see it as if a black mist were surrounding you. You feel worthless and as if you don't want to live.

But I want you to live, Astrid. I want you to live because I love you. I love seeing your face come into the shop to ask Gobber to sharpen your axe. I love watching as you perform target practice. I love your laugh when I hear it in the great hall. I love how smart you are. I love that you're a good person. But I have to love from afar. I'll never be able to love up close. Always from afar.

I want to write songs about you and poetry to you. I want to be somebody so you'll… notice me.

Pathetic, isn't it?

No matter. It's not like you or anyone else will ever see this.

All of this is stupid. I'm stupid. There's no real thing between us and there never will be. Like I said, you're Astrid Hofferson and I'm Hiccup the Useless. It's pointless and painful to keep thinking about it but I will. I will always think about it. Day in and day out. I don't think I couldn't.

Even though I say all these negative things, there's still this pitiful smudge of hope in there. And I know I should kill it, but it's so small I don't think anything could hit it.

Oh well.

Just know this, Astrid. I know how it feels to be alone and to miss someone in life. To be missing some big portion that should be there.

Know that there's someone out there who cares.

Love,

Hiccup the Useless.

Astrid set down the notebook and stared at it as it lay in her lap. She didn't know what to think.

She'd lost her father to sickness. She remembered going through those early days and months… hell, years, with that empty feeling. But she never thought anyone had noticed.

But so much had changed since then. So much had changed.

Valka was downstairs, not dead, fixing supper. Dragons lived amongst the people. And Hiccup…

"Hey! There you are! I've been looking for you all over. I wanted to—are you crying?" His head poked through the trap door of their loft, his face laden with confusion and worry.

She shook her head, pinching the tears away. She had asked about those scars the first time she saw them. He had said it was from an accident in the forge. A sob escaped her throat and she bit on her fist to try to keep it down. She heard him quickly climb up the stairs and move to her, wrapping her in his arms. He rubbed her back and her hair.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

She grabbed onto him and dropped the book. It took a moment but he went stiff when he saw it. She was openly crying.

"You never told me," she whispered through her tears. "You never told me."

When he spoke his voice was thin, as if strained. "No one was supposed to know. That was a long time ago."

"You were never Useless, Hiccup. We just didn't understand—"

"No, it's okay. I've gotten over it." He pulled back and smiled sadly at her. "Things change. I changed. We changed. Life changed."

She wiped angrily at her eyes and looked away. "I was such an idiot for ignoring you. For making fun of you. I was an asshole."

He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her back towards him. "We changed, Astrid. But I never stopped loving you." He kissed her nose. "And I never will. Forever and ever."

She kissed him. "But never from afar."

He smiled at her. "No, I guess not."