Author's Note: Hello once again~ I didn't even realize when I was planning it out that this little scenario is dangerously close to the Jack and Jill rhyme, so I'm going to pretend I cleverly played that out. When we last left off, (insert nursery rhyme voice here) Emma gave Jack a heart attack when she climbed up too high. Now Emma was free, Jack fell from the tree, hit his head and (almost) died. Wow I can't rhyme or keep a meter. That's alright. Let's get to the actual chapter, then. The title is a cover of Safe and Sound that broadway-aradia did for Rise of the Guardians.

Basic Overview: After falling from a tree and getting a concussion, Jack is kept from school. Hiccup and Emma are tasked with keeping an eye on him.

Point of View: 3rd person: Hiccup

Warnings: Blood.

Age Reminder: Jack is 14 (8th grade); Hiccup is 13 (8th grade); Emma is 12 (6h grade)

**Note: I updated the ages up to the beginning of the camp, but I've still yet to fix the beginning chapters. If any of them look wrong, I promise I'm getting to it.**

Chapter 34: Safe and Sound

May 25th

"JAACCCKK!"

The only warning Henrik had before Emma went sprinting forward was her startled cry and a desperate smack to his arm as if she were trying to gain his attention. He couldn't move his legs for a split second, or tear his eyes from the now motionless form of his best friend lying limply on the ground. His vision blurred as the weight of the situation came crashing down on him, his mind completely blank. His legs finally budged at the sound of Emma's broken stammers, desperate calls for her brother to "quit playing tricks". He made his way over with shaking limbs and knelt down at his side, watching his face closely. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sucked in a deep breath, choking back the panic brewing deep in his belly.

The eldest lay quietly on the grass, limbs motionless. His arms and legs were splayed along the grass, fingers lax and palms against the dirt; though his eyes had shut, his mouth was slightly agape, lips parted and taking in little breaths of air. Henrik's eyes immediately found his chest, a sigh of relief working past his lips when it rose and fell at a steady pace. He was breathing. Jack was breathing, he was okay, he was okay.

Emma's shoulders shook with the weight of what looked like an incoming flood of tears. Henrik put up his hands, his eyes fumbling to stay locked on her. "It's alright, Emma. He's alright," he reassured, flatly laying a palm over Jack's chest. They watched it rise and fall with the inflation of his chest in utter silence. "See? He's breathing."

"Okay, okay..." she repeated, nodding her head. "Henrik, wh...why isn't he getting up?"

Henrik fumbled for an answer, playing over the entire scene in his head over a few more times than he would have liked to. He noted the shut eyes and the memory of his body sort of bouncing at the impact, his head being one of the very first things to hit the ground. Sorting his thoughts out beneath panicky, mental screams he messily put the pieces together. "He just... he probably hit his head too hard," He nodded to himself as if to reaffirm his own thoughts, vaguely noting the wide, brown eyes watching him closely. "He bumped it bad and he just... needs a minute."

"Okay," Emma nodded as well, taking one of Jack's hands between her own two. For a moment, she took in a deep breath, keeping her eyes shut and her head downturned. She mumbled under her breath, "Please, Jack, wake up, wake up, wake up..."

"Hey... Jack?" Henrik called quietly, voice grave and faltering. "You okay?"

His body breathed, but he made no sound.

"...Jack, seriously," Henrik insisted, tapping at his shoulders delicately. He knocked his knuckles into his cheek lightly. "Jack."

He... he was joking, right?

It was just a prank. A sick, twisted sort of trick to catch them off guard. He was just... fooling around like usual, trying to get Emma and Henrik all hyped up over nothing so he could get the last laugh. That's how it always was. That's how it was now.

"Jack? Jack, come on!"

Nothing.

This was... no, no way. He just had to wait it, right? No problem—it'd be any minute now. His stupid lips would twitch into their usual, signature grin and he'd burst into a laughing fit, clutching his gut with each gasp for air as he attempted to boast about the looks on their faces. Emma and he would hit and holler at him for scaring them, North would come looking for them, and it'd all be fine. It was always fine.

"Jack...?"

Henrik's heart pounded. His brain throbbed and every nerve lit to life, sparking something in him. Hesitantly curving an arm around his shoulders, he tried to lift Jack's upper-body up, scooting forward more so his head would rest against his knees; the older boy was heavier (all things considered, Henrik hadn't accounted for the dead-weight), so he moved a hand to the back of his head to carefully crane his neck a bit more. He cringed at the warmth his palm met at the back of his head, registering the clumps of wet hair brushing his fingertips and the darker patches of brown locks that shifted with each twitch of his hand. He froze completely at its lone texture dripping down the curve of his scalp.

Turning his palm with wide eyes and a shiver raking down his spine, Henrik senses keened at the sight of bloodon his palm.

"No, no, no, no. Oh my god," Emma choked back a sob. She clasped a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly. "Oh god... oh my god... he's bleeding?!"

He kept his eyes on his crimson palm, his throat dry. "Emma... Emma, go get North."

"But, what if he—!"

"EMMA."

She jumped, stumbling onto her feet. Giving her brother a quick look-over, she bolted the other way, screaming as loudly as she possibly could, "DAD! DAD! HELP!"

Jack grumbled indistinctly. Henrik's heart skipped a beat entirely.

"Jack!" he shouted, leaning over him to get a good look at his face. The older boy groaned again. "Jack? Jack, can you hear me?"

His head twitched up a little, a hiss slithering past his lips when the back of his head scraped against the boy's jeans. Blue eyes fluttered half-open, eyebrows knitting together just above them.

Henrik read it as a nod and breathed a sigh of relief at the action. He waved two fingers in front of his eyes slowly, watching the pupils twitch. "Can you see me?"

Jack snorted. "Barely."

"You... you scared the crap out of me," the younger admitted, shaking his head from side to side.

The older forced a smile. "Sorry."

Henrik curled his fingers back around to lift his head more, his fingertips just barely skimming along the clumps of wet hair. His entire body jolting back when Jack cried out.

"ACK d-don't touch it!" he hollered, hissing with gritted teeth.

He squeaked at the sudden shriek, carefully moving his hand away from his wet hair to support the upper half of his crown. "Sorry! Sorry, sorry!'

"Bozhe moi," a deep voice cursed from behind. Henrik registered it as North and looked back at him with wide eyes. "Jack!"

North's eyes widened, his eyebrows knitting together. He motioned for the two of them to move out of the way, kneeling down at Jack's side with is hands attempting to hoist him up. His fingers brushed the back of his head, earning a pained hiss and a whimper of "Ackkkk stop, stop!" He brushed the hair on the back of his head carefully, observing the spot with concerned, narrowed eyes. North tuned his attention to the kids now standing on his other side, a stern expression on his face. "What happened?" he demanded, eyes searching their faces for some sort of answer.

Emma and Henrik looked at each other, stammering for some kind of reply. It seemed as if both of them had forgotten how to speak, stammering nervously with ums and ers.

"What. Happened?"

They bowed their heads, fumbling for an answer. Henrik opened his mouth to speak but felt his words drown out.

"I climbed up too high," Jack quietly supplied; his voice was low and almost drunken. "I fell. Hic and Emma were just tryin' to get me down."

North groaned, rubbing at his forehead. He glanced up at Henrik. "This is true?"

Henrik nodded thoughtlessly, catching the look of "play along" on Jack's face from the corner of his eye.

"How many times have I told you be careful?!" he all but yelled, glaring at the boy now snickering on his lap. "I turn round for five minutes and you fall out of a tree!"

Jack just forced a grin.

"Emma, Henrik—get in the car," he ordered, earning a nod from both brunets. Hooking an arm underneath Jack's knees and the other around his back, he lifted him up carefully. "I will bring you to Sven and get Jack to hospital."

"Hospital?" Emma repeated quietly, tugging on the back of Henrik's shirt. He looked back at her with a silent nod, hating himself for the distressed whimper it earned him. Nevertheless, they followed North's orders and hurried off, bolting through the park as fast as they could manage to get to the car. They slid into the back seat with ease, panting for air as they settled themselves. Emma took the initiative to hop up front instead when North came around with Jack, laying him with his back across the seat in the back. She peeled off her t-shirt to reveal a tank-top under it, offering it as something to keep under her brother's head. His head rested on Henrik's lap, so he sheepishly shifted his leg to keep it from bumping him too hard. After making a quick phone call to who only Henrik could assume was his father, North climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. They spun out of the park shortly after.

The ride was a bit bumpy, certain corners making Jack's body flop against the seat. When he stopped too short, his head shifted against Henrik's leg, earning a quiet hiss from the impact. The freckled brunet wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he gingerly readjusted his leg and apologized quietly. He buried his mouth in his hand and rested it against the window sill, averting his eyes from the body lying on his leg. Without really meaning to, the arm he'd lazily draped over Jack's torso slid upward more, his hand completely flat against his chest. Something about the way his breaths moved his hand up and down was comforting, in its own weird way, and while part of Henrik's mind reminded him just how weird this must have looked from the front seat, while another was far too focused on the rise and fall, that one little reminder that Jack was fine.

And another part of him really wanted to ignore the little grin working onto Jack's face from the action, but he couldn't quite stop himself from stealing glances at it.

Elliott showed up at the house sometime around 4pm, prompting Sven to leave for work.

The large man bid his son a goodbye, reassuring him that Jack would be alright, and that he'd be back with North as soon as they got out of the emergency room. It'd definitely be a long wait, he'd warned them, since a head injury like his wasn't particularly a call for immediate response. Sven gave the two of them a tight hug and made his way back outside, shaking Elliott's glove-covered hand with a knowing nod before he left their line of sight. The tattooed man came inside with slow stride, turning to the kids idly staring at him with an awkward wave. He basically repeated what Sven had said, reassuring them that Jack would be alright and that he'd keep an eye on them until North or Henrik's father returned. Emma forced a smile, offering a shy "It's been a while since I saw you", earning a pat to her head and a sincere smile back. Elliott merely responded, "Good t' see you too, mate."

The two of them sat down in the living room and clicked on the TV, curling up on the couch silently. Their shoulders brushed, arms bumping between them. While the close proximity would usually give Henrik the skeeves, he choked back his embarrassment and slumped against the cushions, mind heavy with the thought of Jack's injury. Despite his efforts to focus on cartoons, he couldn't tear his focus from the memory of blood on his palm, the weak smirk on his best friend's face despite his nearly unconscious condition. Jack had handled the situation unusually well, with a faltering smile and—for the most part—a calm demeanor (which Henrik could only find admirable, considering his head was bleeding and he could only imagine it hurt immensely).

What bothered him was the obvious concern for his condition. The amount of blood on the back of his head was uncomfortably sizeable, and he hadn't even seen the size of the wound. Was it enough for him to get some form of head trauma? Or was it just a scrape that bled a lot? Would he need stitches? Would he have to stay in the hospital overnight? When the heck would they get back? Henrik let his face fall into his hand, rubbing at his forehead with a groan. He needed to keep his mind off of this, needed to calm down and focus on what was in front of him. Jack would be back with North sometime later, and even though he didn't know when later would be, he knew things would be alright. Or at least... well, they had to be alright. Jack had told him countless times that things always ended up okay—and he hadn't been wrong yet.

The minutes dragged like hours. Sixty seconds slurred to the monotonous beating of his heart, the incessant thumping echoing up to his ears. Watching TV hardly passed the time, each episode of Tom and Jerry feeling remarkably longer than usual. At his side, Emma had brought up her knees to hug. She rested her chin on the valley of the pressed joints, burying her lips into her jeans and keeping her eyes up to the TV screen. Occasionally, they fell to the floor, eyelids hooding over the bright, russet irises. She shifted to rest her forehead against her knees, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and taking deep breaths. Henrik felt his heart sink. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have assumed she was holding back tears.

With a pause, he put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her skin jump at the gesture. Henrik smiled when her eyes turned his way.

"Don't worry, Emma," he reassured, lowering his eyes. "Jack will be back soon."

She nodded her head, shutting her eyes once more. "I'm just... I'm worried about him."

Henrik sighed, sinking into the couch more. "Me too."

"He's not gonna die or anything, is he?"

The freckled preteen sniggered, folding his arms over his chest comfortably. "No, no, nothing like that. It's just a head bump."

"But... but his head was bleeding!" She defended, voice cracking as the pitch heightened. "Th-that's not good! He could have hurt his brain or... something."

"Then they'll probably stitch it," Henrik shrugged, not thinking much of the thought but quickly realizing what he'd said when Emma whined, eyes wide. "B-But it's okay! I mean, it'll just... keep the cut closed. So it'll heal really quick."

Her eyes softened, the arms around her legs easing in their hold on her. "...it will?"

"It will." Henrik smiled. "Jack's gonna be fine. It'll just... take a little bit."

The brunette smiled back at him, releasing her legs and scooting a little closer. Hesitantly, she rested her head on the boy's shoulder, her cheek squishing against him. Henrik jumped a bit at the sudden contact, but eased into it comfortably, snaking an arm around her to pat her shoulder carefully. While the gesture would usually fluster him to the high heavens, he felt himself relaxed in the strange embrace; his heavy stomach lightening in its weight. She took a deep breath. "I just want Jack to come home already."

Henrik lowered his eyes, biting at his lower lip. "Yeah," he admitted. "Me too."

The front door opened twice, with two, loud creaks, piercing the insentient veil over Henrik's senses.

The first time, Henrik ignored it. As the door creaked shut, he could vaguely make out the sound of Elliott and North's voices, slurs of low and high pitched syllables nonsensically echoing from the kitchen. He rolled his head to the other side to avoid the light from hitting his eyes, sighing contently when sleep embraced him once more.

The second time, Henrik couldn't ignore it. Something in his stomach jolted him awake when North's footsteps trailed off, and the door flew open once more, a familiar, squeakier voice directing him to "just sit me down somewhere, I don't care". The same voice hollered when something clanked against the floor. North apologized quietly, laughter in his voice.

He pried open his eyes, noting the dark sky outside the window and the little bit of light shining in the living room from the kitchen. Refocusing his eyes from the slur of unconsciousness, Henrik yawned, stretching his arms and noting the weight on his left shoulder. He hesitantly put his arm back down when another voice groaned; he registered it as Emma and downturned his head, noting her sleeping form curled up at his side. Blinking his eyes a few times, he managed to wiggle out from under her, carefully letting her lay on the cushions as he slid onto the floor. From his knees, he stood up and returned his attention to the light of the kitchen, making out Elliott's slimmer form and North's back facing him. He squinted, still trying to adjust to the light as he padded forward, his prosthetic squeaking against the floor.

And when he stood on his tip-toes, he could spot a set of chocolate spikes where the kitchen table was, a tease of pale skin coming into his field of vision. Henrik's heart skipped a beat.

It was Jack. Jack was home.

"—got lucky, this time," he caught North saying, his voice low. "—the nurse and—very minimal trauma—few stitches and concussion—"

The broken pieces didn't quite line up. Henrik fumbled to focus on what he was saying, and nearly jumped when Elliott glanced over the old man's shoulder and caught his eyes. North must have noticed his line of sight, since he turned around, giving him a better view of the preteen sitting at the kitchen table with his head down. A cluster of white bandages wrapped around his head, stained a dark crimson (nearly on the brink of a copper brown) towards the middle of his crown. His hair was disheveled, pushed up in awkward places to accommodate the bindings. From what he could see, he was still wearing the same clothes he'd fallen in, the dirt stains still evident towards the collar of his shirt.

Henrik was ready to jump for joy.

"Oh, Henrik," North addressed him rather loudly. "I am sorry to wake you!"

Jack's head turned more, his eyes peeking over his folded arms to see who had just entered the kitchen. The blue irises softened their gaze, and though he couldn't see the brunet's lips, he could tell he was smiling.

Henrik cleared his throat, returning his attention to North's comment. He shook his head back and forth, eyes still turned to his best friend at the table. "No, it's uh... it's alright."

The old man smiled, darting his eyes between the two of them with a knowing smile. "Jack," he called in a quieter voice, turning to him. "Henrik is her—oh. Nevermind."

Jack glanced up at him and lowered his eyes, the shadows along his cheeks taking a pinker hue. Henrik snorted from his side of the room, registering it as an embarrassed blush.

"So... how are you feeling?" the younger smiled softly, making his way into the kitchen to join their conversation.

He simply shrugged, "Out of it. I'm freaking tired."

Henrik searched for some sort of meaning in that, turning to North for an explanation. With a hand on the boy's shoulder, the old man laughed. "We had bit of long night in hospital. They put him under for stitches, so he is little eh..."

"Loopy?" the brunet supplied.

"Very loopy," North nodded, chuckling. "You should have seen him—entire car ride back, he asks for McDonalds. Tries to get out of car when we reach red light, thinking we are home!"

Jack glared at him. "I was hungry, and in my defense, that flower shop looked a lot like our house!"

"Yes, yes, of course it did," he patted his back reassuringly, turning to Elliott and Henrik with a shaking head. The two of them laughed along with him. "He is still little out of it; it may take a bit for effects to clear."

"A little is an understatement," the blue-eyed brunet groaned, pressing his forehead against his arms. "Everything's freakin' spinning... Hey, Hic, what time is it?"

Henrik glanced at the clock and double-took when it read 12:49am. Oh gods. He was supposed to be home hours ago. "Oh crap," he muttered aloud, his face falling into his hand.

"What?"

"It's like... almost one in the morning."

Jack shot his head up, eyes fluttering at the sudden motion. "Holy shit when did that happen?"

"Jack," North reminded him, knocking his knuckles into his shoulder. "Language." He turned to Henrik with a relaxed smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It is alright. I called your Dad and tell him you fell asleep. You are free to spend the night. Or... well, what is left of it."

He let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much."

"It is no problem. It is as if you live here anyways, yes? Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "Where is Emma? Has she already gone to bed?"

Henrik shook his head. "No, we fell asleep in the living room. She's probably still on the couch."

"Right," North affirmed, nodding his head. "I will bring her up to room, then. Jack, stay put—I will help you when I get back."

Jack lazily threw up a thumb, letting his head sink back into his arms.

"Th-that's okay," the freckled brunet insisted, putting a hand on his friend's back. "I can help him to the living room."

The old man smiled. "You are good boy, Henrik."

May 27th

Monday

Classes felt... weird without Jack in class, and Henrik couldn't even place why.

He'd been absent plenty of times, for fake-colds and the occasional stomach-bug; and every time, Henrik would go about his normal routine and just pal around with Astrid during lunch or recess. He'd hop on the bus and come home, shoot Jack a lazy wave form his window, and go about his business. But now, he was sitting in class with probably the most pathetic little pout, his focus wavering from the lesson at hand to the empty seat a few rows down.

Henrik felt a tug on the back of his t-shirt, prompting him to turn around when the teacher's back was turned. Sure enough, there was Leon, shyly and crookedly smiling at him with his hand slowly curling away from his shirt. He handed him a neatly folded piece of paper, lowering his eyes to the desk once more. Hesitantly, Henrik unfolded the piece of loose leaf. On the first line, Leon had written in red ink, Hey He-nri-k (he'd scratched out a few unnecessary letters in his name, assumedly correcting his own error), um... I noticed Jack wasn't in homeroom today, and you two are really close so I didn't know if he was out today?

Glancing up at the teacher to make sure she wasn't looking, he quickly scribbled back, Yeah, he's out. He's gonna be home for a few days.

He passed it back, listening to the scratches behind him and holding out a hand when they stopped.

Days? Leon had written. Oh no. He must be really sick. Did something happen?

Henrik scribbled, It's kind of a long story. But he has a concussion and a couple of stitches in his head, so he has to stay home for a while.

He peeked over his shoulder and caught Leon's distraught expression, the genuine concern furrowing his eyebrows and curving his lips into a frown.

STITCHES? He doodle a little face with its mouth wide-open, earning a quiet snigger. Oh my god, what the heck did he do?! Is he okay?

The amount of concern Leon could show without saying a word was astounding, really.

He's okay! He just needs some time off and he'll be fine, I think.

The blond boy held onto the paper he received when the teacher turned around, refusing to scribble even a letter until she had diverted her attention elsewhere. He hurriedly wrote back and stealthily slipped it into Henrik's hand at his side, keeping his eyes on their teacher. I'm glad he's alright. It said beneath his comment, leading to an arrow pointing at the "I think" comment. The arrow asked, You think?

Henrik had to think of an explanation, settling on a simple, I just worry about him sometimes.

Something about the smirk on Leon's face when he handed it back struck the brunet as sly, a cunning gesture without explanation. Unfolding the paper, he blinked a few times at the simple comment Leon had left in response.

I kinda figured.

Henrik let out Toothless when he got home and hurried over to Jack's house as fast as he could, shrugging his backpack further up his shoulder.

He hooked Toothless's leash on and brought him along for the ride, knocking on the door politely with the little warrior sniffing the deck at his side. Emma let him inside with a smile, letting it widen when Toothless jumped on her legs, wagging his tail excitedly. She knelt down to pet him and shut the front door, clicking the leash off once the two of them were inside. The little warrior immediately ran for the kitchen, prompting Emma to chase after him in a fit of giggles and wait up's. Henrik made his way into the living room, feeling his shoulders slump contently at the set of chocolate spikes facing him on the couch. Part of him wondered what about knowing he was home made him so happy, while the other argued it was natural joy considering the circumstances.

Henrik quietly walked over, standing close to the edge and towering over it to get a glimpse at Jack's face. His eyes were shut, expression comfortable emotionless as if he were asleep. The bandages around his head had clearly been changed (judging by the lack of fabric clumps), his bangs moved over them to hide the bit wrapped around his forehead (presumably Jack's work, knowing his little obsession with his hair). There was something almost... comforting in seeing him so relaxed, something reassuring in confirming his presence. Henrik honestly didn't think should have been as happy as he was to see him (especially considering he saw him almost every day anyways), but his thoughts couldn't help but buzz excitedly at the sight of his unconscious form lying on the couch.

I guess in the end, even the possibility of losing Jack was a scary thought.

There was no doubt that he was an important part of Henrik's life, a part he was terrified of being without. Jack was someone he trusted and someone he cared about, he knew that much. He was the best friend the freckled teen had ever had, his strange but immeasurably kind next-door neighbor who'd seen him through thick and thin. He mattered and meant everything, and gave Henrik so much over the years—bountiful memories that brought him smiles and a promise of companionship. Jack was the first friend he'd made in his new home, and his best friend at that.

Jack was the shoulder Henrik leaned on when he stumbled around the hospital, and the arms that carefully stood him back up when he fell. He was the voice that comforted him through thunderstorms and the blue eyes that watched over him when he thought he wasn't looking; the laugh that bubbled in his stomach when he did something utterly stupid. He was a few lame jokes and groan-worthy puns on a bad day, and every contagious smile on a good one. He was a guardian, in his own respect, protective with a sense of humor and an endless thirst for mischief. He was… someone special to Henrik. And how far or deep that went, he wasn't quite certain—but Jack was important.

Without really meaning to, he brought up a hand to brush away some of the hairs just over his eyelids, tucking them to the side for no reason in particular. He jumped a little when Jack's nose crinkled in response.

"What are you..." The older boy sniggered quietly. "I'm not asleep, genius."

Welp. Henrik felt like an idiot.

"Oh. Right." He nodded his head slowly, brushing off his own awkward actions as nothing. The younger brunet walked over to sit on the arm chair, watching his friend sit up just to be sure he was alright. "So um…" Henrik scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, bowing his head. "H-how do you feel?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders, scratching the top of his head. "My head hurts."

"…okay, anything else to report, Captain Obvious?"

"Not really. I just don't feel good is all."

"…what does that even mean?"

"What do you mean what does that mean?" Jack spat impatiently. "You know, bad! I just… I don't know, I don't feel good, you know?"

"That doesn't help at all."

He huffed quietly, turning his head more so his eyes locked on the window. "Whatever…"

Emma skipped into the room with Toothless trotting at her side, a water bottle in one hand and the other closed into a small fist. She stood at Jack's side and handed him the water bottle, opening her palm to reveal a large, beige-looking pill.

Jack stared blankly at the small capsule being handed to him, his eyes darting between it and the water bottle in Emma's other hand. "…what's that for?"

Emma set down the water bottle at his side (earning a shiver from her brother, when the cool plastic brushed his side) and crossed her arms, her chin raised. "It's your pill," she stated. "Dad said you have to take this pill every 6 hours or you could get really sick."

The eldest furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the pill distraughtly. "…but it's… it's the size of like... a penny."

"Yeah. No crap," Henrik tacked on, biting back the laugh building in his throat. Oh man. Jack's face was priceless! "You still gotta take it."

"Are you kidding? I'm gonna choke on it!"

"Can't you just get it over with quick? Chug it with a ton of water or something; you won't even feel it."

"But… but…" Jack stammered, whining. "Can't I just take it later?"

"North said you had to take it now."

"But Hiccuuuuuup…"

"Dude. Just take it and get it over with."

Jack groaned, tossing his head back dramatically (his eyes twitching from the sudden movement). He sat up and unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, gingerly laying the capsule on his tongue before taking a big gulp of water. He swallowed it with probably the funniest face; a crinkled nose and squinted eyes, complete and utter disgust evident in the way he shuddered as it went down. Taking a deep breath afterward, he held up his hands. "Happy?"

Emma skipped out of the room, stopping in the archway to chirp, "Very~"

Sitting in the arm chair adjacent to the couch Jack was sprawled out on, Henrik let his bangs flop messily in his eyes. He leaned against the arm rest and watch Jack's still form carefully, following each breath with eyes. Moving upward more, he peeked at his overcast eyes and noted the unusually dark shade of blue they held. When his irises shifted in his direction, Jack turned his head slowly (hissing when the back rolled along the pillow) to look at him.

"Thanks, Hiccup," he mumbled. "I know sitting here must be a pain in the butt, but I… guess it means a lot."

Henrik thinned his lips into a mock-smile. "Hey, it's no problem. After everything with Astrid and the hospital and… ya' know… I… kinda owe you anyways."

Jack nodded as if he understood and shut his eyes, rolling his head back gently. A smile graced his lips for a split second. "You never owed me anything, stupid."

Henrik shrugged. How could he even say that? After everything Jack had done for him, and he didn't want anything in return? Man was he dumb… Since he was little, Dad had always said that favors are never free. When someone did something kind for you, it was your job to do something just as kind back — not out of obligation or duty, but out of kindness. It was like the "eye for an eye" idiom he'd heard do many times, but to a much lesser extent. Henrik stayed true to that lesson the best he could as a kid; back when Mom was alive, he did extra chores when she bought him a new toy, or when Toothless found his stuffed dragon when he lost it, he gave him extra treats.

And then there was Jack, the friend by his side for all these years and the boy who brought him so many memories, basically denying the entire lesson. It confused Henrik to no end, how he could do so much and expect so little. Perhaps that was a quality in him that the freckled preteen found admirable.

On the topic of admirable qualities, he was honestly taken aback by Jack's willingness to take the blame for his plummet out of the tree. He lied to protect Emma without even thinking about it; the gesture was all the more impressive considering his head was bleeding. It was like an impulse, really, something Jack didn't have to contemplate or premeditate. Honestly, Henrik probably would have panicked and told North the truth, but Jack handled the situation calmly despite his circumstances. How could he do that, though? What was the point in lying if all it did was make Emma feel like shit and get Jack in all the trouble?

Henrik shifted in his seat, twiddling his thumbs guiltily before instinctively calling out, "Hey, Jack?"

He cracked open one eye and looked over. "What's up?"

"…why'd you do it?"

Jack seemed confused at the question. He sat up a bit more and opened both his eyes. "Why'd I do what?"

"Lie. About what happened, I mean."

He blew air out of his mouth and shrugged, shaking his head back and forth. "I dunno. Just did."

Like hell he didn't know.

"No way," Henrik rebutted, furrowing his eyebrows. "You knew you were gonna get in trouble, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did." He calmly replied, staring up at the ceiling instead. His expression blanked. "So what?"

"Why do it?" The younger asked in a softer voice. "Why take the blame?"

"Cause North was gonna yell at her." Jack rebuked, tucking an arm behind his head and pillow to prop it up. He hissed at the pressure and carefully shifted himself once more.

Henrik shook his head, as if to say "So what?"

The older lowered his eyes, bowing his head as if he thought his answer was dumb.

"Emma... Emma hates getting yelled at."

He stared at him blankly.

Jack swallowed, sheepishly averting his eyes from the green irises watching him. "Well... last time North got really mad and yelled, she got really upset," he explained, fingers fidgeting over his chest. "I mean, it was a pretty long time ago but she... she started to cry and everything and I uh... I dunno."

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

"This was... a really, really bad situation, and if North knew she was up there with me, she'd have gotten in a lot of trouble. So I took the heat since... well, it was my dumb idea to climb up anyways; it only makes sense if I'm the one to get in trouble, right?"

Henrik wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he bowed his head to acknowledge Jack's statement. The comment sort of caught him off guard, sending his thoughts into a curious flurry. His reasoning behind it, to be entirely honest, was stupid to him; all he'd managed to do by lying was make Emma feel like crap and get himself on North's bad side. If it had been Henrik, he probably just would have told the truth and been done with it, accepted whatever consequences came with it and moved on. But there was definitely something admirable about how long he'd held onto such a miniscule detail. Half of the time, it seemed like Jack was never paying attention; particularly in class, when he stared at the board and took down notes when he was asked to, but otherwise had no idea what they were even doing. He had this marvelous little habit of zoning out during conversations or forgetting what he wanted to say, stammering for a decent fill-in until the thought returned to his mind.

But now here he was, avidly recalling the shortest instance of Emma being afraid, bringing it back and utilizing the memory to learn from it. The fact that he'd held onto something anyone else would probably not have noticed peaked Henrik's interest, sparking an entirely new trail of thoughts he hadn't the heart to delve into. And as he thought about it, the notion of Jack's keen attention slowly made more sense. Despite his laid-back attitude in regards to school or any actual form of productivity, Jack was pretty savvy. It came out in all the nights he'd called Henrik over for a sleepover, or brashly insisted they make fun of Disney movies or build a blanket fort just to miss a thunderstorm; in the snow days they fooled around aside, when he'd piggy-back him between yards so he wouldn't slip on the icy sidewalks. It came out when his mother came up in conversation and Jack tactfully dodged the topic at the slightest notion of making his friend uncomfortable; in the amount of care he put in moving his stuffed dragon between bookcases or blanket tops as if it were absolutely fragile.

As every instance came into play, Henrik took a moment to line up all the pieces, abandoning the unobservant impression he'd originally received from the other boy.

Because honestly? Jack probably paid more attention than anyone.

With a hefty sigh, he let his guard down for a minute. His thoughts curiously slipped past his lips, as if to test the waters. "…that's… sorta brave of you."

Jack gave him the weirdest look, teetering somewhere between confusion and genuine surprise. Assuming he'd caught his friend off guard, Henrik cleared his throat and continued his thought.

"W-well… It's just… It's nice you're always thinking of her, I guess." Treading carefully, he shifted in his seat and hung his head shyly. "You're a good big brother to her."

The older boy gaped at him for a minute, looking oddly stunned. "Uh… Hic?" Opening and closing his mouth a little, he settled on a weak grin and snorted. "…what's with you all of a sudden?"

"Well for starters, you kinda scared the living crap out of me back there," Henrik shrugged with a chuckle, peeking up at his friend with a sheepish smile. "And… I dunno. It's not… it's not a lie, and I wanted to say… something…? I guess…?"

Jack looked really confused by his comment. He furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed, rolling his head back into his pillow sluggishly.

"…you're… really weird, Hiccup."

North and Henrik helped Jack up the stairs sometime around 9pm, making sure he landed alright when he staggered into his bed.

The old man fetched an extra pillow from the hall-closet, handing to Jack. He turned to Henrik to ask if he'd be alright getting home, and (with a subtle glance at the window) the brunet reassured him that he'd be able to get back just fine. North patted his head and smiled at the older boy, sauntering out of the room and back down the stairs. As his footsteps dimmed to a faint tapping in the distance, Jack fidgeted in his spot, situating himself. Henrik offered him help if he needed it, but he was quick to decline it. He argued that he "could handle himself, no problem" and fixed his pillows, lying back against the mattress with a contented sigh.

"Ahh... man," he exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes with a smile. "It feels like all I've been doing is sleeping lately."

"Probably because you have been sleeping a lot." Henrik snorted, walking across the room to get his backpack off the floor.

"Yep. It's probably gonna screw with how I sleep later..." Jack thought aloud. "But I guess this is kinda nice. Just sleeping. Good to catch up, ya' know?"

Henrik shook his head truthfully. "N~ope. Can't say I do."

"Heh. I think someone's jealous."

"Yeah, you must have hit your head too hard or something," The other retorted, sitting on the edge of the bed comfortably. "I think you're starting to imagine things."

Jack mock-laughed, kicking his side with one of his feet.

Henrik winced at the chill of his skin hitting him, jerking away. "Ahhhhh quit it; your feet are cold!"

He regretted announcing it the second a mischievous smile made its way onto the injured boy's face. Just as he predicted, he kicked his feet again, landing a few lazy blows on the skin of his arm, earning a few squeaks and dude stop's from his friend. Henrik swatted them away, landing a particularly loud slap on his heel, earning an indignant, "OW! HEY!"

"Aw, you're not fun!" Jack laughed when he stood up, just out of his foot's reach.

Henrik rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "Aren't you supposed to be unconscious or something?"

"Oh, now you're wishing me unconscious?" the older boy shook his head, grin never faltering. "God, you're so mean to me, Hic."

"Hey, someone has to keep you in check." He shrugged, biting back the smile on his own face. "Seriously, though—get some rest, would you? Your head is screwed up enough as it is."

"Fine, fine, fine," Jack grumbled, wiggling his back further into the mattress with a sigh. He shut his eyes briefly, reopening one to glance over at him. "Hey, uh, Hiccup?"

"What's up?"

Jack paused. When Henrik looked over, it seemed as if he was carefully thinking about what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth and sighed, settling on a hush, "Thanks."

The younger boy merely nodded in response.

Taking a moment to look over at his unconscious friend, Henrik found himself grinning at the sight he was greeted with.

His best friend was lying on his bed, sound asleep and virtually motionless. It was unusual, really; Jack had a marvelous talent for falling asleep wherever he lay down. One time he came over for a study session, and fell asleep on the coffee table; the younger boy had only left for what must have been fifteen minutes to take Toothless outside and feed him, only to come back and find Jack unconscious on the table. Seriously, though; how do you even pull that off…?

It was sort of fascinating, though, and went back to Jack's inexplicably abundant trust. He wasn't afraid of letting people in, or of anyone making fun of him for the way he was. He took things in stride and let everyone and anyone in without a second thought; he was an open book at the mercy of any curious reader, with exciting pages and chapters full of silly stories. While he demonstrated that willingness to let people know him, it was more prominent in the way that he slept, oddly enough. His limbs were splayed along the bed, his position open and so comfortably lax Henrik envied it. It looked as if he'd just walked into his room, plopped himself down, and passed out — when in reality, he'd unconsciously shifted himself into the position. The movement was fascinating, as if even his subconscious was desperate to express his very being.

But at the same time, his expression looked tense. His eyes were shut tightly and his brows furrowed downward with certain, shaky breaths. If Henrik hadn't known any better, he'd say the idiot was in pain or something. His lips were pressing together more as if he were gritting his teeth, and his fingers curled into tight fists. Despite his body's comfort, his face seemed so conflicted. It was like he was at war with his thoughts, battling back his sub-consciousness in the realm of dreams — but he was a member of the defeated force. Maybe it was the notion of being alone with his thoughts that made him so uncomfortable…

Henrik never noticed it before. Most of the time when he slept over, they stayed up all night or wrestled over blankets (not recently, but the point still stood) so his focus was diverted elsewhere. But now that he had a closer look, he found Jack oddly… fascinating. Confusing. Sort of… interesting, actually.

…holy shit this was creepy, this was seriously creepy but he couldn't look away. He plopped himself on the beanbag and tried to focus on sketching, but his thoughts — and eyes — strayed toward Jack again. He found himself smiling like an idiot when the doofus stretched in his sleep and made a goofy little noise as he fell limply to the sheets once more. He mumbled indistinctly and sighed, returning to his mental quarrel. For a minute, Henrik wondered what he dreamt about. I mean, he's known Jack for years but it never really crossed his mind. What does someone like him even dream of? Was he the oh-so-esteemed ice wizard he posed as in his younger years, or just regular Jack powering through some fuzzy, mystical mess of thoughts? Did he think when he slept, like Henrik did? Or did he not dream at all?

Rubbing at his temple gingerly, Henrik let himself sink back into the beanbag more. His sketchpad slinked onto the floor, falling from his lap. He wasn't entirely sure where his sudden curious burst had come from, but as it halted he found himself confused. He'd never really thought about Jack in depth that way, since he was such an easy personality to learn. Yet he found the little things he did as such indictors to a character in him, so contrary to what he insisted that it was frightening. There were parts of Jack that not even Henrik knew, and something about that was an… an uncomfortable notion.

Jack could read Henrik like a book. All it would take to know something was wrong was one look at Henrik, and Jack would shower him in groan-worthy puns and stupid jokes. He knew every button to press and when, despite the younger's prior attempts to conceal them. He hardly said a thing about his thoughts but it felt like his best friend could hear them; Jack always knew when something bothered him, and it seemed that — while he wasn't the best with words — he tried his hardest to talk him through them. Yet Henrik could hardly guess what this idiot was thinking. Jack's thoughts were basically an enigma to him, a riddle he couldn't solve no matter how hard he thought. He was fickle, in a way, as if all of his buttons rapidly switched places to the rhythm of his thoughts.

Letting out a sigh, he pulled up his legs and curled into a ball, his entire body sinking into the beanbag. His bangs flopped in front of his eyes, tickling his eyelids when he carefully shut them.

Henrik wasn't sure why, but Jack had been on his mind a lot lately—but what confused him even more was how he hadn't caught himself until now.

Henrik stumbled out of Jack's room with a sigh, shrugging his backpack up his shoulder lethargically.

The clock read 6:28pm, so he gathered all his books and stuffed them into his bag, groaning at the sudden thrust of weight now pulling on his back. Looking through the bathroom window, he could see his father's car already in the driveway, so he opted to go out the front door instead of climb across the rooftops. As he sauntered down the hallway, he caught Emma smiling at him from the corner of his eye and turned to face her.

"Heading home?" she asked quietly, folding her hands.

"Yeah, my Dad got back so... it's probably better if I go."

Emma nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Well... bye, I guess?"

"Yeah," he awkwardly repeated. "Bye."

Before he started down the stairs, he remembered something Jack had said earlier, prompting in to walk back up and tap her on the shoulder. She turned to him once more.

"Oh, uh... Emma?" Henrik bowed his head, rubbing at the back of his neck almost as an afterthought. "...I'm um... I'm sorry about before."

She seemed confused, turning around to face him with a raised eyebrow.

"For... um... f-for yelling at you. When Jack fell?"

Emma looked up at him with a thin smile. "Is that it?" She snickered a little. "That's okay. You were just... scared that Jack got hurt. I understand."

"I know, but that doesn't make it okay. I... that really wasn't nice of me to just—"

"Henrik stopppp~ I forgive you, okay?" She reassured, nudging his arm with her elbow. "It's alright."

Henrik sighed with relief, nodding his head for no particular reason. "Okay, okay. Sorry, I just... yeah."

Emma snorted, pushing his arm so he'd move. She nudged him down the steps with a laugh. "Stop apologizing and get out of here~"

"Hey, hang on a sec!"

Emma and Henrik turned to look at the stairs, a mutual gasp leaving their lips when they noted Jack slowly making his way down, arms hugging the side-rail as if his life depended on it. They hurried to the bottom step, hollering at him to "go lay down, you idiot!" and wondering "Jeez, what the heck are you doing?!"

Jack simply laughed at their concern, wobbling as he hit the last step. Henrik braced a hand on his arm to help him regain his balance. The older boy shooed it away when he was settled, smiling at him thinly.

Henrik grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows. "Okay, would it kill you to stay put for like, five minutes?"

"What?" The injured boy sniggered. "You're leaving, and I wanted to come down and say bye."

"I'll see you tomorrow anyways, it's alright." Henrik sighed, looking up at him and catching his eyes. Clearing his throat, he waved sheepishly at his best friend. "So I guess I'll uh… I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah," Jack affirmed, his hand leaving the door knob as he drew closer. "See you later."

Before Henrik could manage to get another word out, the older boy pulled him into a weak hug, his arms wrapping around the other's arms and shoulders. Henrik wasn't entirely sure how to respond. He felt something spark in the back of his mind and stood there with a blank expression and a stiff back, shakily bringing his hands up to pat Jack's back. When was finally released, they laughed a little awkwardly and Jack stepped back inside, smiling at him thinly as he wobbled through the door.

And there was something about the way Jack smiled at him that made him a little happier than he should have been.

It was thin and stupid as usual, a cocky little thing he carelessly gave out to whoever turned their eyes his way. His cheeks sort of squished his eyes closed more with its width, softening the lively blue irises to a more comfortable, knowing haze. Despite how short-lived and goofy the gesture was, Henrik felt the image linger in his thoughts and overcast each stray query. Something brewed in his stomach, something bubbly like a belly-full of really fizzy soda, but heavier; it fluttered clumsily.

Turning away from the front door, he sucked in a deep breath and sighed, shutting his eyes. With stiff limbs and a clumsy limp, he made his way back to his own home and tugged open the front door, sliding inside and leaning on the door so it shut completely. His back slid against the wooden surface until his butt hit the floor, legs splaying messily against the hardwood. Naturally, Toothless bolted inside the house, immediately making a break for his food dish. Henrik snorted at the now zooming dog.

The 8th grade was... well, in a word? Awkward.

It was late-night conversations and stammering date-talks, blonde, braided hair and ambitious blue eyes. It was kisses and cringes, sheepish smiles and staggered small-talk. The 8th grade was moving forward in time yet falling back in sentiment, back into the same rut of feelings despite their lack of reciprocation. It was finding more in a mischievous smile, the meaning of glinting blue eyes that squinted with its growing width. It was exhuming an entirely different side of his best friend, realizing just how deep and complex his personality ran through. It was questioning boundaries and quiet scheming to surpass them.

The 8th grade was lost puppies and a lost boy's laughter, kisses and questions, blue eyes and brown hair, concussions and companions, boundaries and daring new directions of thought.

It was... it was learning about Jack, and liking each new discovery Henrik made.

Author's Note: And now, we enter High school. HiJack has begun and I'm ridiculously excited! We get an introduction next chapter, and it's basically the obligatory "new grade" chapter that I always end up writing. Thanks for reading and reviewing guys, you make my day bright!