Here, have some angst. I know you love that.
Hiccup comes out of the shower feeling as dizzy as when he climbed on it. Tired feet drag his body from the cold white tile floor to the warm carpet of his bedroom, finally sitting on his bed and combing wet strands of auburn hair with his fingers.
He doesn't feel like drying himself off, so he puts his heavy head in his hands and these between his knees, waiting for the drops covering his freckled and tattooed skin to evaporate slowly, creating goosebumps all over his body.
He didn't sleep at all last night. After North's call, he spent his time sketching on his notebooks, classical music deafening his thoughts through a pair of earphones. Classical music always helped him to not think about his problems; it usually was much more emotional than other genres, and the absence of lyrics was a plus. Classical music was made for the heart and the soul, not the head and the mind, and in moments like those of last night he was grateful for that.
Hiccup didn't know what to expect of this morning, being honest. If he wasn't this heartbroken he would scoff at the thought of his boyfriend's father —if he could still define Jack as 'his boyfriend'— calling him in the middle of the night so they could make up. The problem was that Hiccup didn't know over what exactly they had to make up about. That was his main question, and the one he still haven't found answer to.
He wasn't exactly angry at the younger boy for his treatment, more like plainly and devastatingly hurt. For every time Jack didn't picked up his phone and replied to his messages with lame excuses and monosyllables, Hiccup's chest would tighten a bit more. And that was when the white-haired teen still talked to him. That situation continued until Wednesday, give or take, when Jack decided to completely ignore him and make of Hiccup's life a living Hell in which the tattooed man would worry sick about the other's welfare. 'This isn't fair' was a thought that invaded his mind too often as tears filled his eyes, although he didn't cry a single time. He could at least be proud of that.
A sniff against his left knee and a low whine distract him momentarily of his sadness, his full attention turning instead to the black labrador looking almost sheepishly at him.
"Hey bud, what's up?" He asks quietly and the dog answers him by flattening his ears against his skull and whining again, leaning his head on Hiccup's knee for his owner to pet him. "It's okay Toothless, I'm just a bit tired", he lies, but the dog whines again in reprimand, butting his wet nose against Hiccup's thigh and staring directly at him with green puppy eyes. The teen bites his lip, the tiniest of smiles pulling at the corners of his mouth. "It's okay Toothless, now I'm feeling much better", he scratches the dog's ears and presses a kiss to the top of his head, making the labrador finally release his knee and greet him with a goofy smile, which Hiccup reciprocates with a laugh. The owner brings their foreheads together and closes his eyes, a wave of calm washing over his body. Hiccup scrunches his nose in disgust when Toothless licks his nose playfully, but stays still anyway. "You always cheer me up. Thank you bud."
Hiccup finally stands up, drying the last drops off his skin with the towel that hugged his waist, and moving to his wardrobe to put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Lacing his boots and taking his phone and keys he goes downstairs, waving goodbye to Toothless before putting on his helmet, climb on his bike and light the engine, leaving the street.
He arrives at Jack's house in record time.
Jack wakes up to the sound of clattering pans coming from the kitchen, and the groggy teen covers his pounding head with his sheets. He doesn't really remember how he made it to his bed last night until he unconsciously licks salty lips, the realization hitting him full force, and he simply groans miserably as memories flow slowly to his less and less sleepy mind.
He'd probably be embarrassed if he didn't feel this hollow. He looks slowly to the tickling clock on his nightstand, the numbers glowing green in the complete darkness of his room, and his eyes fill with tears without him noticing. He looks at the date on it absentmindedly —it's Saturday; a week ago he was waking up in Hiccup's arms and feeling the happiest person in the world, and everything was going fine, and his life was wonderful until he just fucked everything up—, wetting his pillow case and realizing that he doesn't really care about being heard anymore.
During the previous days Jack mastered the art of crying silently, but his limbs ache too much and his mind is too drained to try and be polite right now, so he lets the tears run down his cheeks freely, taking big gulps of air in the form of bubbles as his breathing starts to become erratic to the point that his ribcage hurt with each exhalation and inhalation of burning oxygen. He kicks the bedsheets out of the bed and sits up, trying to breathe normally and finding out that he can't with the the pressure of his sobs ripping through his chest. He hears the wheezing sound of his cries in his ears, and it feels like they aren't his own; like he's seeing himself from out of his body. Jack finally panics, forcing his legs to go search for his father, but he falls to the ground with a hard blow on his ribs and temple. He's going to suffocate.
He hears loud steps on the stairs as he tries to even his heartbeat, a pair of hands too small to be the ones of his father lifting him and hugging his body carefully as they sit down on his bed, the stranger cradling him back and forth in his lap. Jack sniffs on whatever skin he can find —a neck? A collarbone?— and it smells wonderfully familiar, the scent and the calming movements taking him back to reality slowly. He hears a shushing noise and quiet words, and he can't tell whose voices these are, but he opens his eyes —when had he closed them?— and with the corridor's light that enters through the open door he makes out the silhouette of his father under its frame, and then the inked patterns of one of Hiccup's freckled hands holding him in place tenderly.
Jack doesn't say a thing. He's to ashamed to do so, but at the same time too glad of whatever this means. He doesn't understand why Hiccup is in his house, or why he is in his room taking care of a stupid mess like him, but he doesn't have to think about it too much to comprehend that he couldn't ever let go of that body around him, even if he wanted to.
It takes a little for the sound to finally sink in through the fog that plagues his mind, but recognition finally shines in his eyes, although weakly, as he tries to decipher the words Hiccup is saying. "Should we take him to the hospital?"
North seems to agree, but Jack can't be totally sure as his numb fingers take a hold for dear life on the other teen's shirt, the white-haired boy doing his best to shake his head negatively. He can't speak with his mouth dry and his throat sore as they are. He mouthes 'water' almost indistinctly, the word coming out like a croak, but his father seems to understand his request and disappears of the room in a heartbeat, going to the kitchen.
Hiccup's hand moves to his frail neck, searching for his pulse point and placing two fingers there, and they send a shiver of pure pleasure directly to Jack's spine. He receives a gasp in return, concern knitting his brow further at the gesture. Thinking he has hurt the boy in some way, Hiccup lifts Jack from his lap delicately with the intention of laying him on the bed, but Jack panics again and hugs his shoulders in a death grip, effectively preventing Hiccup from releasing him. Green eyes close with a trembling sigh, bringing Jack back to the original position, and the boy kisses a freckled collarbone in thanks. Hiccup is the one who gasps now, the apologetic tinge of Jack's lips on his skin not escaping his noticing.
He wants to say so many things, and he wants to say them all at the same time, but his mouth stays shut. It finds Jack's temple a presses a kiss there, and Hiccup can feel how they boy's body relaxes under his touch, how his breathing comes less erratic and more firm, how his limbs seem to melt against his own. Despite the difficult of Jack's gaze being hidden in the crook of his neck, Hiccup looks him in the eyes, and he's surprised when he finds misery filling them. He arrived at the Frost's house with the certainty that Jack hated him, or at least that he didn't want to do anything with him. Now, with the pale boy's nails caressing his nape, and with his lips grazing his freckled skin, he doesn't know what to think. He's not sure of the only thing he was positive about anymore.
Hiccup has to ask Jack about whatever this means, he needs to ask him, but North reappears at the bedroom's door, glass of water in hand, and he simply stays still. Jack drinks it in with tiny sips, freckled hands moving on his own accord to rest on his back, one helping him with leverage and the other rubbing circling motions on the muscles there. While Jack is distracted, North directs an intently look at him, and Hiccup doesn't really understand the emotions behind it. "Jack", the teen looks at his father over the brim of the glass, still sipping it, "I have to talk with Hiccup for a moment."
"I think I should go, North, this wasn't a good idea", Hiccup replies firmly, taking the glass from Jack's hands and using his momentary daze to finally put him on the bed.
"Hiccup, wait", Jack croaks urgently, pale hands holding him by his t-shirt, and Hiccup could free his clothes off his fingers easily, but the white-haired boy has said his name for the first time in a week, and the sound makes Hiccup's heartbeat flutter. "Dad, can you leave us alone for a minute?"
North seems dubious at first, though his bulking figure retreats to the door, closing it behind him and going downstairs to the kitchen. Darkness engulfs them, the only light coming from the open creaks of the bedroom's blinds and Jack's alarm clock. Hiccup stays silent as his eyes get used to the lack of light, waiting patiently for Jack to say whatever he wants. As the situation extends for five more minutes, Hiccup turns in the spot to leave with a disappointed sigh when Jack's crying voice freezes him in place.
"Don't go, please," he sniffs sadly, fat tears running down his cheeks again, although his breathing is evener now. "Stay here with me." Hiccup looks at him by the brim of his shoulder, and he says nothing, but he doesn't have to: the incredulity of his features is enough to break Jack's heart in a thousand pieces, and the teen flinches when Hiccup shakes his head in anger, two tattooed fingers going upwards to hold the bridge of his nose. He's frustrated, and frankly exasperated with Jack's confusing attitude, even if the picture of the weeping boy tightens his chest painfully.. He wants to scream at him, but he can't do that; not just because North is in the room, but because he knows Jack couldn't bear it now. He could have another attack, and he had already scared them enough for the day, though that didn't mean he was going to stay. Hiccup couldn't stay and Jack seemed to know this, because he tries to convince him again, voice pleading and apologetic. "I know I have been a jerk this last week, but if you stay I'll explain everything. Please. I lo-"
"You love me, Jack? That's what you were going to say? Because when you love someone you don't hurt them deliberately. In fact, that's exactly the last thing you do when you love someone. And you've hurt me. Do you know how many times I look at my phone after sending you a text, waiting for you to answer it? Or how many times I stayed awake these past nights, because I couldn't stop thinking about you? How many times I have wondered what I did wrong for you to suddenly hate me like that? How worried I was? I thought so many things…" Hiccup snaps, head shaking disbelievingly and voice tight with anger, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He falls shut, not trusting his voice anymore. He thought of how Jack maybe realized he was just a stupid crippled boy, his most obscured fears making him hate himself every time he saw the stump at the end of his left leg. "You don't love me, Jack."
"Please, let me explain", he pleads, a sob ripping through his chest much like Hiccup's words. He knows the older boy is completely right, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. "I know I don't deserve it, but I need to explain everything to you. I'm so sorry, Hic, please, just… Please. Sit down and listen to me. If after what I have to tell you you want to leave and don't talk to me ever again I'll understand, but please, let me explain myself…"
Hiccup's cold eyes pierce Jack's wet own, but the younger boy is not retreating, not this time. And Hiccup knows that he doesn't owe him a thing, and his pride is screaming him to move to the door and never look back, but the sincerity of Jack's baby blue eyes pulls at his heart with an undeniable force…
Hiccup turns and sits on the bed without a word, the mattress sinking under his weight, and Jack debates himself between feeling grateful for it or hiding under the covers. Green orbs bore into his school, waiting for him to say something. Jack bites his lip unconsciously.
A tattooed finger grazes over his bottom lip, and the pale boy's breath catches in his throat. He looks at Hiccup confusedly, his treacherous heart fluttering in his ribcage at the gentle touch, and the other male looks back at him through his lashes almost predatory-like. "You're always biting your lip", he explains matter-of-factly.
Jack wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so much it's almost painful, and the possibility of not being able to do so ever again after his confession floats in the air between them with every exhalation. But Jack has to be brave.
"When we met each other, you didn't wanted to make any move on me because I was too young, and I didn't understand your reasons at the time. I…", he clears his throat, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. Jack looks at Hiccup intently. "I had a lot of time to think about us, this past week. And I comprehended that I wasn't young because of my age, but because of my actions. When you acted like a man, I acted like a child", Hiccup tries to interrupt him, but Jack shakes his head firmly, "please, let me finish. Last week at your house I was incredibly happy. I was the happiest I had ever been. And it was because of you —please, don't you ever think again that any of it was your fault, because it wasn't—. But then I thought…"
Jack averts his eyes abruptly, and Hiccup moves closer to him on the bed, breaths almost mingling together. "What?", he whispers.
And it's now or never, both of them know that. Because if Jack stops talking know, Hiccup will never trust him again, and he'll disappear through his bedroom door even if that means they'll both be heartbroken forever.
So Jack keeps talking.
"I thought", he mumbles under his breath, "of how lucky I was for having you. Of how much I loved you. B-but, it seemed too soon, and I panicked. Because I could picture you not returning those feelings with the same intensity as I felt them, and I was so terrified. And I'm so sorry, b-because I thought those feelings would rub off after putting some distance between us… But I was wrong, you know? Because I still love you the same– no, now I love you more. And I know I fucked everything up, and I understand if you want to leave and never look at me again, because it's just like you said earlier. Why would you hurt the one you love?"
Jack can't see Hiccup's expression as his eyes fill with tears, but he can hear him as he says "Snowflake, you're so stupid."
And Jack can feel the distance between them being closed in a beat, and he can feel Hiccup's warm lips pressing violently against his as he sobs.
It didn't really take a kiss for the pale teen to realize how much he missed the other boy, but it took a lot of them for him to understand how much Hiccup loved him back.