Father
A/N: I had to do this. I had to. You see, I really had to. And it really works so perfectly I mean c'mon think about it, chronologically, it really is the first year he's celebrating Father's Day without Stoick. IT WoRKS SO PERFeCTLY.
It was today, and Hiccup hadn't remembered.
To tell the truth, he barely remembered anything anymore. Everything was one huge blank to him nowadays, and things that might have once been considered important to him, like certain dates, all faded into indefinable blurs from the exhaustion and stress constantly plaguing him. He, who had always fled from responsibility, balked at the idea of leading a flock of sheep, left a trail of smoke in his wake when anyone even mentioned chieftain…he, who was afraid of responsibility, was currently weighted down with the sheer crushing quality of it.
So he really couldn't be blamed for having forgotten, but almost the instant he realized he had, he couldn't fathom how. It should have been one date that was now forever seared into his memory, yet until he departed from his hut on the morning of, it was the farthest thing from his mind. And then the cries fell upon his ears and he felt something inside him snap.
"Happy Father's Day!"
The message was heard all over the crowded streets of Berk, loving smiles on every face, teasing remarks on lips, presents in hands as seemingly the whole world celebrated the one thing he had lost.
And he had not prepared himself for today. If he had remembered, if he had had time to prepare himself, would his heart be hurting this badly? Would his soul be throbbing and aching and burning, twisting itself around the hole in his heart left by his own father? He should have remembered today, because he had never remembered it then, when he'd been lucky, been fortunate enough to have that.
He could have celebrated all those years ago, when he was fifteen. He could have celebrated instead of riding off with his friends. He could have celebrated when he was sixteen, instead of spending the whole day with Toothless. He could have celebrated when he was seventeen, instead of helping improve the village. He could have celebrated when he was eighteen, instead of going off and finding that new island to the south. He could have celebrated when he was nineteen, instead of making Inferno. He could have celebrated when he was twenty. He could have celebrated his dad when the man was still there by his side.
How many times had the opportunity to celebrate arose and how many times had he failed to take advantage of this? How many times had his father expressed the desire to spend time with him, and how many times had he ignored it and gone off with Astrid or Toothless? How many times had he gone dragon racing instead of paying attention to the one person who always paid attention to him, the person who had always been there for him?
And still, everyone else remained unaware of the crushing pain inside, like a fist around his heart, unclenching only long enough for him to breathe before squeezing him tightly at his core once again.
I wish I'd appreciated him more.
The thought rose, unbidden in his head, regret his only companion as he entered the village streets, trying in vain to prepare himself for the pain of today.