As I was working on a big fic of mine (also FrostCup, same universe, it will be published soon), this kind of happened. Somewhere in there, I had to write a particularly heavy scene between Hiccup and Stoick. It wouldn't let me go and it led to this. Sort of a spin-off I guess.
I'm pretty much gut-punching the feels here. You have been warned. I'm sorry Hiccup and Jack, but I regret nothing :\
-Creed
No More
He couldn't take it anymore. It was too much. When he came out to his dad, he was expecting a shrug or a hug or a scowl, not a preaching about sins, devils and abominations. He would've never guessed his dad was religious like that. He must have found the faith after Valhallarama died. They had been so separated that the brown-haired boy hadn't even noticed.
Never before had Hiccup missed his mother so badly. If she'd been here, he would still be loved. If she were here, she'd tell Stoick to be ashamed for treating his son like that. For treating his own blood like less than shit, just because he loves boys, not girls.
Last night, Stoick had announced Hiccup would go to a 'cure camp' during the summer, so he could be cured of his disease. He no longer wanted this… this thing in his house. That was honestly how he referred to his son. Of course Hiccup had argued. He didn't want to go, because he knew what would happen there. They would destroy him, break him, under the pretext of 'fixing' him. The thought alone made him sick with fear.
The fight escalated and they ended up screaming at each other, like always. And like every day since the scrawny teen came out, Stoick had that contemptuous, vile look in his eyes.
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR OWN SON?! YOU'RE A MONSTER!"
"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!"
Hiccup tried to leave but his father grabbed his arm. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO THAT BOY AGAIN!"
"THAT BOY IS MY BOYFRIEND! UNLIKE YOU, JACK DOES CARE!"
Slap
Hiccup touched his face, unable to believe what had happened. But the pain was real. His father had hit him. He stormed off and locked himself in his room. The brown-haired boy had thrown himself of his bed and had burst into tears, screaming into his pillow. It wasn't fair. He never asked for any of this. Why did this have to happen to him? Why was his dad like that? Was it so hard to just love your own son?
...
Jack wasn't online and didn't respond to his calls. He was probably still at work. This left Hiccup alone with his grim thoughts and gut-twisting feelings. He felt nauseous. He felt like cutting himself, but he'd promised Jack to stop doing that.
What could he do? Hiccup rested his head on his knees, trying to see the bright side of it. Trying to see when it would get better. But he couldn't see anything but pain and suffering and rejection. When his dad banged on his door and let him know to pack his stuff, he had already made up his mind.
The officer handed Jack an envelope, which he accepted wearily. It had been sealed, but someone had opened it to read what was inside. As soon as he saw the handwriting, his heart dropped. With trembling hands, he read the letter. When he finished, he still couldn't believe it. He read it again. And again. The words remained the same.
He sunk to his knees, screaming in frustration, anger, regret. Not Hiccup. Not his sweet, strong Hiccup. With his kind, brown eyes, his cute freckles. Not him.
He clutched the letter to his chest and prayed for it to be a lie. To be some sick, twisted joke. But it wasn't. Hiccup, his love, was gone, his body hanging from the swing set in his back garden.
