Author's Note: So I tried to cram everything in this and the next chapter into one and that did not work out, so I split things up into two. Filler, oh filler; can't get enough of it! So this chapter if you couldn't tell is basically just their summertime derping around. Next chapter we'll be hitting high school, since my first draft for this chapter ended up being crappy.

Basic Overview: Summer vacation has rolled around once again, and the boys have decided to kick it off with a hike.

Point of View: 3rd person: Jack/Hiccup alteration

Warnings: Nothing, I'm pleased to say!

Age Reminder: Jack is 14 (9th grade); Hiccup is 13 (9th grade); Emma is 12 (7h grade)

Chapter 35: Firefly

June

The end of June bid a sweet farewell to Burgess Middle School with the ring of a bell.

The hallways rang with rowdy 8th graders applauding their new-found freedom, some screaming nonsensically and others crying over how much they'd "like, miss everyone, okay?" Teachers hopelessly tried to maintain order, hollering hopelessly for their now ex-students to quiet down until the principal dismissed the classes one by one. Eventually, they gave up on wrangling excitable 12 and 13 year-olds into classrooms and allowed the waves of kids to pour out of the rooms, flooding the hallways with even louder shouting. It seemed that despite everyone's excitement, no one wanted to leave; cliques of girls sobbed nostalgically by the lockers while the boys ran about the 8th grade wing, balling old pieces of homework and hurling them at one another.

After what must have been twenty minutes of senseless lingering, more and more kids hurried down the stairs and bolted for the front entrance. Jack waited patiently by Hiccup's homeroom, leaned against the door casually. A few guys passed him, coaxing him to come out with them, but he shot them down with a shrug and a lazy "nah, I've got a ride to wait for—think I'll stick around for a bit". They sauntered off without him, leaving him to the now quiet hall. The last chattering cluster of girls finally left, and as silence overtook the building, the door clicked open. Hiccup hesitantly popped his head out, looking around for any lingering people. He took a deep breath, strolling out of the room and turning his eyes to the boy waiting for him. He smiled thinly at him and they made their way out to the front entrance. Saying goodbye to the school was surprisingly easy. Middle school was chock-full of memories, but the excitement of becoming the big, bad high schoolers overpowered and sorrow from departure. The thrill of summer vacation only numbed it further.

The first few weeks were... well, dreadfully uneventful. Most of it was spent catching up on sleep and bathing in the sweetness of knowing that yes—it was vacation time, and time to relax.

Things picked up later into the month, when the days grew longer and progressively hotter. The radio in the living room had broken, so Hiccup took it upstairs and took it apart with a screwdriver he'd snagged from the kitchen junk drawer. The parts were a complete enigma to him, pieces of a mechanical puzzle that all came together in some mysterious way. He pulled out all the parts and observed them carefully, sketching their order and unique position attentively. He tried to put it back together on memory and notes, but always ended up putting something backwards and having to take it apart again. Hiccup huffed and went to bed, quitting simply out of rage when one of the larger parts wouldn't fit back in.

Jack tapped on his window a few mornings later, wearing his signature smile. Henrik groggily rolled out of bed with a groan, sliding on his prosthetic leg and shuffling onto his feet. He made his way to the window and pulled it open, greeting his friend with a yawn and a lazy wave.

"Hey," he offered, rubbing his eyes. "No offense, but what do you want?"

"Well, hello sunshine." Jack sarcastically spat, expression deadpanned. "Ya' know, you're not much of a morning person."

"Yeah, you didn't have to tell me that," Henrik spat back lazily, folding his arms over his chest. He arched his back more and sighed contently at the small crack he heard. "Seriously, what do you want? It's like... 9 in the morning. Some people are trying to sleep."

Jack rolled his eyes, shooing him aside so he could crawl through the window crack. "Well some people oughta get their lazy asses out of bed. You might wanna eat before we head out, by the way."

Henrik blinked at the last part, staring at the other boy blankly. "Head out?" he repeated dumbly.

"—and~ you might wanna get dressed too."

"...get dre—what are you even talking about?

He merely grinned, a wide, toothy thing that the other boy had come to associate with mischief. At the sight, all Henrik could manage was a weary, "Oh no."

"Relax, would you?" Jack sniggered, slinking an arm around his shoulder and tugging him close. "We're not robbing a bank or anything—I just thought we could hike around in the woods, is all."

"...you wanna go on a hike?"

"No, I wanna jump off the roof," he spat back. "Yes a hike. Keep up, would you?"

The snarky comment earned him a smack on the back of the head. It wasn't enough to actually hurt, persay, but Jack definitely squeaked from it. Henrik sighed, shooting him the best death-glare he could manage in his groggy state and knelt down, knocking his knuckles into the other boy's knee as a silent request for him to move. He tugged open one of his bureau drawers and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a striped green t-shirt. Moving back into a stand, he caught Jack's look from the corner of his eye and scoffed. "What?"

"You're wearing jeans? Dude, it's like... 80 degrees outside."

"Yeah," Henrik nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "We're also marching around in the woods for gods know how long. I don't wanna get bug bites." He punched the other boy in the arm when he was—once again—in his way, wincing a bit at the revenge punch to his back. "Can't you go wait downstairs or something? I gotta take a shower."

Jack jutted out his bottom lip. "What, you're kicking me out of your room? Already?"

"Basically."

"And what's your Dad gonna say when he finds me down there randomly?"

"Probably nothing, considering you basically live here anyways?" Henrik defended, fidgeting with the clothes in his arms. "He's not even home. I think he left for work like... an hour ago."

"...Oh. Welp. Fair enough." The other shrugged, jumping onto the edge of the bed to sit down.

Henrik cocked an eyebrow, contorting his features to inquire a silent, Really?

Jack merely smiled in response.

"Dude. Out."

"Okay, okay! Rude, much..." the older grumbled, trying to sound irritated despite the blatant smile on his face. He purposely bumped the other boy with his shoulder on the way out, sticking out his tongue at him from the top step. He started his descent with light steps, the floorboards creaking under his weight. And as Henrik made his way into the bathroom, he bit back a smile of his own.

"You take like, the longest showers ever."

Henrik rolled his eyes as he sauntered down the steps, narrowing his eyes with an unamused scowl at the brunet sprawled out on his couch. Purposely noting the spot Jack's legs had taken, he plopped himself down and sat on them, priding himself in the loud ack get off! the action earned him. The older boy shifted to free his legs, narrowing his eyes at the other. He scooted back and leaned against the arm of the chair, sitting up properly.

Jack just sniggered, rubbing at his legs. "Jeez, Hiccup."

"You know, I get this eerie feeling I've told you before to not call me that," he jeered, kicking him playfully with his foot.

"Pft. Yeah, right." Jack kicked him back. "It's too late for that. You're stuck with it, for life. If I switched nicknames on you now you'd just get confused. 'sides," he shrugged, slumping against the cushions more. "Hiccup suits you."

"Remind me again how choking on air suits me?"

"Cause they're stubborn and they sound stupid when ya' talk."

Henrik deadpanned. "Gee, thanks."

"Hiccup. I'm kidding," the older laughed, nudging his arm with his foot. He winced at the death-glare Henrik was sure he wore. "Sheesh, why are so always so serious?"

"The same reason you're always so stupid," The younger retorted, rolling his eyes. "So where exactly were you planning on hiking to anyways? The park's not that wooded."

Jack shrugged. "I thought we could just mess around in the woods out back. Stomp around in the mud, see how far the woods go... that kinda thing."

"...so you wanna play in the woods."

"Pretty much."

"...remind me again why I needed to be awake for this?"

Another shrug. Jack swung his feet over the side and kicked them against the edge of the couch like a child. "Cause... it's more fun when you're around?"

Henrik tried not to take too much meaning out of that one to keep up his annoyed façade. "And...?"

"Aw come on..." Jack jutted out his lower lip. "You mean to tell me I climbed over here and almost got eaten by your psycho dog for nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he sunk back into the cushions more, biting back a grin. "And hey—Toothless isn't psycho. He just doesn't like you too much."

"God knows why," the older huffed grimly. "I haven't done like, anything to make him hate me!"

"They say dogs have a good judgment of character, ya' know."

Jack elbowed him in the arm, narrowing his eyes at the other. "And what's that supposed to mean, Haddock?"

"Oh, nothing," he sarcastically drawled, retaliating with a shove to Jack's side. "Nothing at all."

"Watch it," Jack warned, a playful grin on his face. Taking a moment to recollect his thoughts, he breathed a heavy sigh and shook his head a few times. "So are you coming or what? We're wasting daylight here."

"You're not gonna leave until I say yes, are you?"

Jack shot him a toothy smile. "Nope."

Henrik groaned, tossing his head back. "...can I at least eat something first?"

Henrik managed to down a bowl of Cheerios before he caught Jack waving at him through the window.

The boys geared up for a hike in the woods, stuffing their backpacks with waters and books and a blanket, just for the hell of it. Jack fished out the bug spray from the laundry room (and it was quite an adventure trying to find anything in there, really) and kept it on hand, hurrying out the backdoor for their journey. The two of them met between the yards and agreed on a path to take, setting off with proud strides. Toothless scratched at the back door's gate and yipped, begging the freckled teen for release. So they put off their departure for a few more minutes, just for Hiccup to get his leash and take him out.

Their trek through the woods was rather short-lived, however. Toothless trotted at Hiccup's side as they ventured further into the brush, looking back at his master simply to make sure he was alright. Jack marched ahead, stomping around and kicking up dirt with the swing of his steps. He lead them left, warning Hiccup of the wetter terrain. He cautiously avoided puddles, stumbling a bit when Toothless pulled him forward more. He lost his footing, bad leg instinctively coming forward to maintain his balance. He called out for the little warrior to slow down a little, but stumbled forward more when he only yanked the leash harder. One squish later, and he couldn't quite get his left leg moving again, instead feeling it... sink?

And... wait, was Henrik getting shorter?

He peeked down just to make sure his legs weren't magically shrinking in size, but groaned irritably upon seeing his prosthetic slowly sinking into a puddle of mud. Though it wasn't a deep puddle, wiggling his stump to break the metal curve it loose didn't seem to help very much. Looking back up, he could see Jack's back slowly gaining distance. He flailed his arms a bit. "Eh... Jack!?"

"What's up?" Jack turned around to check up on him and immediately smiled, a laugh bubbling in his throat at the sight he was greeted with. "Ahaha... oh god," he shook his head to shake his own laughter off. "Ohhhhh man. You okay?"

"Besides the obvious?" Henrik gestured to the limb caught in mud. "Peachy."

"You try moving it out?"

The younger deadpanned, wiggling his left leg but hardly lifting it. "Oh no, I hadn't even thought of that."

"Hey, it was just a thought," he defended, thinking carefully for a moment. Jack snorted, a smile lighting his face once more as he let the situation sink in (some pun intended). "Man, the amount of jokes I could crack right now."

"Great. I'm stuck in mud and you wanna crack jokes."

"Hey, hey, just trying to lighten the mood, ya' know? No need to be such a stick in the mud."

Henrik didn't even try to hold back his groan. He slapped a hand over his eyes. "Jack, I swear to the gods—"

"Alright, alright!" he threw his hands up, strolling over and grabbing onto the other boys hands. "I'm gonna try yanking you out, okay? Hold on tight."

Henrik nodded, obediently hanging onto Jack's wrists tighter. He was given a nod before the other started to pull, heaving him forward. And for a moment, he actually thought the tugs were working; he could feel his left leg finally budging (beneath the ache of pulling it so much). With a startled squeak and a distant crack, he went hurdling forward, straight into Jack and onto the ground. Henrik shut his eyes during the fall purely out of instinct, cracking open when the sensation of falling passed and he was left with the frightened stiffness of his limbs. He managed to get onto his hands and knees from his spot on the ground, looking up more to realize he'd fallen on Jack (though admittedly, the look on his face was hilarious). Shuffling off, he flustered. "Eh... s-sorry," he apologized quickly. "You okay?"

Jack sat up and rubbed at the back of his head, throwing him a smile. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine—what about you? You okay?"

The younger shifted on his knees to stand but when he kicked his left leg back, there was nothing to hit the ground. He glanced down to find the problem and groaned at the realization. "Great," he sighed, looking over at the metal limb proudly sticking out of the mud puddle.

Jack snorted again, immediately biting his lip when the other gave him a look.

Hiccup merely glared at him, rubbing at his stump with splayed fingers. He crawled over to the prosthetic that was still jammed in the dirt, pulling at the metal curve to yank it out (with a strained oof! when it finally popped out of the mud) to turn it over and search for the problem. Jack followed his eyes and they simultaneously groaned at the sight of a crack on the edge of the holster, the plastic worn and scratched in more than one place. His natural instinct was to push the snapped halves together again, with some silent hope that a magic adhesive would stick them together again. But alas, fate was never so kind; the plastic halves jutted out to their previous, cracked positions. Jack and Hiccup exchanged concerned looks. Welp. There went their hiking idea...

As you can imagine, walking wasn't exactly the easiest of activities. Hell, getting Hiccup back up and into the house was an adventure on its own; Jack offered him a piggy back ride, but the other stubbornly reassured him that no, he didn't need it and he could get in just fine. So the older let him stumble onto his good leg and hop a few steps before wobbling back onto the ground. Furrowing his eyebrows at the look of frustration on his best friend's face, Jack bit back a laugh and dryly commented, "You uh... you sure about one, buddy?" The only response the other boy could muster was a defeated scoff. Hiccup dejectedly accepted his previous offer, and they made their way back into the house, leaving the now broken prosthetic for Jack to fetch later.

North's immediate response was a jolly "Well! Look who is back!", before his eyes lowered to the stump of Hiccup's leg. He raised an eyebrow, strolling over from the kitchen with a forced, staccato chuckle. "Henrik, where is your prosthetic?"

And for some reason, the way his eyes immediately turned to Jack at the lack of an answer was offensive to the older brunet, but he choked it back in order to explain their little predicament. North carried the one-legged boy up to Jack's room (by his request) and carefully plopped him down on the bed. He reassured him that he and Jack (though in truth, it mostly ended up being Jack) would help him out until his father got home, offering to let him stay as long as he needed. He even took the liberty of getting his prosthetic from outside—which they'd completely forgotten about, the idiots—and bringing it back in for him, offering to glue the holster or tape it or whatever it took for him to walk if he really needed to. He thanked him for the offer, but ultimately shot it down, stating that it'd probably just end up breaking again anyway, so there was no point.

Mr. Haddock knocked on the front door sometime after dinner, around six thirty when the sun just barely kissed the horizon line. North answered with a rather loud "SVEN! How are you?" that Jack could hear from his room, prompting the older boy to piggyback Hiccup down the stairs. He set him down on the couch and brought down his backpack shortly after.

The Haddocks met in the living room, giving each other a silent nod and a lazy wave. His father's eyes found the stump of his leg and he blinked a few times, finally asking where his prosthetic was. Hiccup shrunk back into the couch cushions a bit, stammering on a flustered spiel of uhhhs and ummms.

So Jack chimed in for him, even went into the laundry room (assumedly, where North was trying to figure out a temporary fix) to get the broken prosthetic. He explained the situation as best he could and offered to help Hiccup around if he needed it until it could get fixed, since he hadn't the slightest idea what else to do.

Mr. Haddock sighed, turning to his son. He hollered, "Henrik, if you couldn't walk why didn't you call me earlier?"

"Sorry," Hiccup shrugged, lowering his eyes to the floor. "I didn't wanna bug you."

Jack could feel the weight of silence enter the room after his comment, feeling his own stomach drop a bit. Part of him wanted to chime his two cents in, or make some stupid joke simply to lighten the mood; but nothing particularly came to mind, and judging by the tension in Hiccup's shoulders, it probably wasn't the best idea. He even looked to North for some kind of answer, but it seemed like the old man had the same idea; their eyes met for a moment, and both of them shrugged.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, his father settled on a nod, clearing his throat. With his head bowed and the strangest twitch of melancholy on his face (subtle, in its own regard, but Jack could see it in the furrow of his brow and lowering of his eyes), he quietly replied, "Right. I'll... call the doctor in the morning and schedule an appointment as soon as possible."

Looking back at North, it seemed even he hadn't a clue what to say. Darting his eyes between the two of them, he forced a smile and threw up his hands, offering Mr. Haddock a drink in the kitchen if he was so inclined. They walked off on their own, and—judging by the look Jack got from the corner of his eye—North had left the job of making sure Hiccup was alright to his own discretion. So, with a pat to his friend's shoulder, he offered to turn on the TV or get a book from his backpack. Hiccup just shrugged without a word.

They made their way into Jack's room, shutting the door behind them by Hiccup's request.

The boys called it a night sometime around midnight, when Jack finally decided he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

After hours of tossing and turning and shifting between positions, Henrik grumbled under his breath, cursing every deity he could think of for depriving him of sleep. He sat up from his sleeping bag on the floor, letting the fabric slump around his lower chest. It pooled on his lap comfortably; he let out a long yawn and fidgeted his legs a bit, kicking off the extra layer of blankets covering his legs. Weirdly enough, he didn't even remember pulling them over himself, but as the cool air of the room kissed his skin and drew little goose bumps along his forearm, it made sense why he would. Gods, why'd Jack's room always end up the coldest...?

The buzz of the central air filled the silent void of the night, overpowering the crying cicadas and excitable crickets humming away out the window. Henrik could barely make out a few small, flickering lights on Jack's window screen. He crawled across the floor (dragging his side along the carpet, oh god the burn) and peeked out at them, marveling at the fluttering wings bathed in light. They flitted from the woven wires to the rooftops, even daring to wander closer to Henrik's window and tapped at the glass, hopelessly attempting to grace the small bedroom with light.

Fireflies—his groggy mind finally registered the phenomena with utter excitement—there were fireflies this time of year, and he'd finally gotten to see them.

They were sort of fun to watch, their little forms flickering brightly like earthbound stars. Part of him wanted to wake up Jack just to show him, a part that beamed with a childish excitement at finally managing to catch them outside (the years he'd actually gone out with Jack to catch them, he'd drawn too near and they fled). It wanted to call him over just to see how he'd react, if his face would light up like it usually did in his excited stupors, or if he'd handle it with a silent smile. But the other remembered just how comfortable he'd looked and merely laughed at the notion; Jack was tired, and he needed to sleep. Henrik folded his arms against the sill and let his cheek comfortably rest against them, tilting his neck a bit to look up at the flittering stars dotting the screen. As his cheek rested against his knuckles, he felt himself calm at the unusually beautiful sight, limbs slumping into a comfortable laxness he usually only felt in sleep.

"D...maa...no..."

"What?" Henrik asked, turning his attention to the sudden murmur, his mind registering it as Jack's voice. He squirmed in his place a bit, holding still soon after to listen with a held breath.

"—s not... where..."

He blinked a bit, fumbling for some meaning in the unconscious comment. Where was what?

"...mmm...where do I..."

The younger brunet shifted in his place, wiggling his uneven legs to sit properly. He held his breath, tried to figure out the space between each comment. When they came at random—some in murmurs, some coherent words slipping past his lips on occasion—he deduced the boy was sleep-talking, unconsciously spitting out his thoughts. He was losing coherency with each comment, the babbles unusually random and eerily gaining distress. The indistinct mumbles ranged from little grumbles under his breath to the occasional, loud slur of words that half-made Henrik think he was speaking to him.

"...mom...?"

The coherent address caught him off guard, his head perking up at the sound. He looked over at the still figure in the bed, holding onto the sill so he could stand when he really couldn't see much of anything. He hopped his way across the small space between the window and bed, holding onto the side so he could make his way over. And there, he could see Jack's face clear as day, his stomach sinking at the amount of distress in it.

"Emma..." he murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "E... mmm..."

Henrik could make out a foreign glimmer pooling at the end of his lashes and slithering down his cheek. The light caught the stream, and as it dropped, it left the faintest trail of light on his skin. His eyes squeezed shut tighter, his teeth grinding (producing a horrid sound) in his mouth. The hand at his side curled his fingers into the duvet and pulled at the fabric, his breathing uneven as the death-grip tightened, so far Henrik thought he'd tear the fabric with his nails. The sight held a certain familiarity to the boy, bringing him back to the look on his face when he slept through the concussion, and even further back to the hazy memory of catching Jack shoot up in his sleep the first time he'd stayed the night. Though he couldn't quite recall much of the latter, he definitely remembered jolting awake when his best friend sat up next to him, lingering in the position for but a moment before plopping back down into the mattress.

If he listened closely, Jack was sobbing. Hiccuping with each breath. It almost sounded like he was choking, the air in his lungs caught trailing back up and down but never letting anymore oxygen in. Henrik frowned, his mind finally registering the light on his face as a little stream of tears falling from his eyes. He put a hand on his shoulder almost hesitantly, jumping a bit when Jack's breath hitched.

"...Jack?" he quietly called, laying his hand firmer against his shoulder. "Jack, wake up."

The sleeping boy's shoulders were shaking now; his eyes shut even tighter, lips pursed in a straight line.

"Jack," Henrik leaned over him and called louder, now shaking him a bit. "Jack, it's Hen... It's Hiccup. Please wake up."

He stirred a little at the nickname, but otherwise didn't respond. He wasn't sure why, but the slightest panic returned to him.

"JACK."

He sat up; nearly smacking his forehead into Henrik's head on the way. He sucked in a deep breath and let his head fall into his hands, fingers rubbing at his forehead. The younger boy pulled his own head back, straightening his spine with his eyes locked on the boy heaving for air. The hand he'd placed on his shoulder moved to his back, awkwardly patting it a few times (though he quickly retracted it when he could feel Jack shaking) as he fumbled for something to say. Neither of them spoke for a moment, just keeping to their places in silence.

"H-Hiccup?"

Henrik jumped when Jack finally broke it, his voice cracked and hoarse as he hit certain syllables. "Um... y-yeah," he affirmed hushly, bringing a hand back to his shoulder. "It's me."

He brought his head up to look at him, eyelids swollen and pulled wide open despite the tears swelling at the bottom, his eyebrows kitted upward. The younger boy was certainly caught off-guard by the sight, feeling something in him crumble. His shoulders slumped at his sides, limbs almost numbing as his mind turned its fullest attention to the look of pure and honest horror on his friend's face. Bowing his head, he managed to get out, "Are... you alright?"

Jack nodded his head perhaps a bit too quickly.

Okay, that was a load of crap. Placing a hand on the other boy's shoulder, Henrik choked down his own irritation at the other for his persistent I'm fine façade. The limb shook under his fingertips. "...are you sure?" he inquired determinedly. "Dude, you're shaking."

Another set of nods. The younger furrowed his eyebrows with a huff.

Henrik swallowed his pride, shoved past every meddlesome protest in his head and sat on the edge of the bed, scooting himself closer to the other boy to tightly wrap him in his arms.

Jack tensed at first, his body jolting at the sudden contact, breath hitching along with it. The younger boy half-thought he'd weirded him out or something; anxiously, he slackened his arms to give him a bit more breathing room, turning his head so their faces weren't so embarrassingly close. He fixed his eyes on the ever-so-intriguing blue wall dressed in shadows across the room, chewing on his lower lip. Beside him, Jack sniffled, a choked laugh in his voice as he spoke. "Eh... H-hic?" he called quietly, shifting in his arms. "Wh...what are you doing?"

Ah, yes... What indeed...

The freckled teen gulped at the question, lowering his eyes. He wasn't entirely sure how to explain himself; the urge had just come over him from prior experience, solely based on the notion that usually Jack's embrace comforted him during thunderstorms. There was something about such a simple gesture that held meaning to him, the warmth of his arms and comfortably (though usually uncomfortably) close proximity oddly relieving in the face of fear. So... trying to reciprocate that was right... er... right?

Right. No. Wait... What?

Alright, so maybe he hadn't accounted for the fact that that probably didn't really go both ways and yep, okay yep Jack looked seriously weirded out from the corner of his eye and he wasn't moving much at all, and yeah okay, he was being an awkward dork again, but this time with a new, even weirder twist. He was already dreading all the little comments Jack would have about this little outburst.

"Ummm... trying... to...comfort... you?" he answered slowly, dawdling on each word, since he wasn't quite sure himself.

Jack didn't seem to know what to say to that. And thank the gods for that—Henrik hadn't reserved any witty comebacks in the event Jack did. In that pause, Henrik sort of forgot how to breathe, instead sucking in a breath of air and holding it hostage inside of him. His lungs burned from holding it back, but he felt his hearing heighten with every small breath Jack let out over his shoulder. With a relieved sigh, he let it go when the other boy finally laughed a little, a sort of wimpy, broken sound—but a laugh nonetheless.

"It's fine," he snickered, voice hoarse and seemingly strained at certain syllables. "I'm good, I'm good. You can let go."

Something in him didn't want to, a part of him that was rather small but rather persuading. Fighting it back, he slackened his grip on the other boy and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

Jack smiled sheepishly, shifting back a bit more. "...I didn't... I didn't... wake you up or anything did I?"

Henrik shook his head. "No. I mean, I was already up. Not cause of you, I just eh... I couldn't sleep anyways."

"Right," he wiped his eyes and cheeks with the bottom of his palm, sniffling quietly. "Thanks."

"Uh... sure," The younger nodded, not entirely sure what for. Peeking over at the other boy, Jack had scooted back more, closer to the wall and further from the edge of the bed. Something about the movement made his stomach sink; why did he keep moving away from him like that? I mean, besides the obvious proximity issue (he'd gotten the idea a while back that he just got kinda twitchy when he was too close) he was just trying to help. Jack held him during thunderstorms and it didn't seem to bother him then, yet when the tables had turned he seemed so unusually turned away by the idea. What the hell?

Clearing his throat, Henrik bowed his head, looking over at the other boy sheepishly. "So uh..." he drawled, kicking his feet over the side. "Did you... ar-are you okay?"

Jack nodded with a weak smile. "Yeah. Just... a bad nightmare."

"Oh."

"It's alright," he shrugged, wiping the corners of his eyes again with a sniffle. "It um..." He cleared his voice when his voice cracked. "It happens a lot. I should be good now. Sorry for scarin' you."

Henrik could vaguely see his smile falling from the corner of his eye. Jack looked as far from alright as anyone could get—he still seemed shaken from his dream, his limbs sort of curling in on themselves until he was sitting in a small ball on the other side of the bed. He wiggled his feet under the blanket and let his chin rest on the tops of his knees, arms hugging them close to his chest. His eyes were still red, and judging by the cracks in his voice, Henrik had a bad feeling he was still crying (or at the very least, taking a good while to stop).

"Hey, Jack?"

The other boy looked up at him with sullen blue eyes.

"You um..." the freckled teen scratched at the back of his head, lowering his eyes sheepishly. "You want me to sleep up here with you tonight?"

Jack seemed taken aback by the timid suggestion, his eyes widening in surprise. Burying his face into his knees, he answered back, "...please?"

Henrik merely nodded, grabbing his pillow off the floor and tugging it onto the bed. Jack scooted closer to the edge of the bed, letting the younger brunet wiggle in to sleep against the wall. Henrik silently thanked him for that (the open feeling lying by the edge brought was incredibly uncomfortable for him), and settled himself under the blankets, watching Jack's expression closely. He caught the flush of his cheeks, and the way he turned his head to bury it in his pillow, curling in on himself. His tense expression softened, eyes losing their shy glaze and taking to a comforted calm. Jack mumbled into his pillow, shutting his eyes soon after.

It took Henrik a moment to register just what he'd said, but as he took a moment to replay the grumble in his head, he registered it as a thank you.

The day Hiccup went to the doctor dragged on, seconds slurring to the sluggish weight of hours.

Jack took to sleeping through most of it, mostly since he was tired anyway (though his nightmares lacked frequency, they'd grown in intensity; after North woke him from an apparent "fit", getting even a second of shut-eye seemed impossible) and... well, time passed pretty damn quickly when he was unconscious. The rest, he'd dedicated to watching TV and a venture into the basement. Sifting through clutter proved itself a worthy obstacle; he nearly tripped over a box of old clothes just trying to get down the stairs. He strategically stepped where he could actually see the floor, eventually reaching an old couch littered with boxes. He climbed atop it and piled the clutter around it, effectively making himself king of a box-fort. What he would do in it, well... he hadn't a clue, but it was something to do, okay?

Amidst his dorkery, a heavy box tipped off the arm of the couch, clattering against the ground as picture frames and photo albums poured out. Jack cussed under his breath, piling the contents back inside delicately. His attention turned to a silver frame laying face-down on the ground, the glass cracked at the corners. He picked it back up (wearily watching for shards) and groaned, noting the cracks and breaks in the frame. Beneath the shattered glass was a picture of a young woman, with long, straight hair and a bright smile. The monochromatic image perplexed him. Jack hadn't met anyone whose face matched the image; he fumbled for a name, a voice, a memory—something to at least get a vague idea of who he was looking at. He thought back as far as he could, his mind zeroing in on the memory of playing with a ball in the house and knocking over an photo from the wall. He recalled just how mad North had gotten, how he yelled and warned him of how important it was. If he focused enough and followed the frame's engraving with his fingertips, it was practically identical. But why would that even...?

The front door flew open, and North called out his name. Jack jumped. Carefully laying the frame down again, he hurried upstairs.

The old man had come back from grocery shopping, so he and Emma hurried out the car to help him unload. Soon after, he assigned them chores; they rushed into the living room armed with paper towels and a broom. Jack dusted off the high ledges and washed the windows, while Emma swept the floor and vacuumed the carpet. Blue eyes bugged when he wiped down the front window and a car pulled into the Haddock's driveway, a smile lighting his face when he caught Hiccup's face through the windshield. He watched him wiggle out of the car, clumsily standing. From where he was, he couldn't see his legs; perspective hid it behind the hood of the car, leaving him to stand on his tip-toes and bid for him to move with huffs under his breath. Emma tugged on the back of his shirt before he could get a good look.

Jack didn't see him again until night fell. He threw on the closest pair of sweats he could find and a t-shirt off his bureau and hurried onto the roof, carefully hopping across and onto Hiccup's on the balls of his feet. The curtain was drawn, but light shined through the thin, green fabric. With a smile, he tapped on the glass and took a step back; choking back a laugh when Toothless yipped loudly and he caught a hushed, Oh, quiet you, from the freckled teen. He tugged open the window with a click and smiled, offering a "Hey" before letting him inside. Jack wasted no time in barging in and demanding to know if he was alright. The other boy merely laughed.

Hiccup limped back to sit on the edge of his bed, rolling up his pant leg to show off his prosthetic. The limb was noticeably thicker and more... er... well, to Jack it actually looked like a leg instead of a cup with a metal curve; the calf was plated, wires and all kind of mechanisms covered beneath it. The ankle looked like some sort of ball-joint, rolling realistically when Hiccup moved the foot (with a bit of difficulty, he'd noticed). The holster was a bit larger, but form-fitting; when he rolled down his pant leg again and shakily stood, it hardly looked as if he were wearing a prosthetic. Hiccup sheepishly explained that it was a bit harder to walk with, since he really had to think about how to roll his ankle when he moved his leg (which was apparently hard, though Jack couldn't particularly understand why considering he could just... well, do it). He paced back and forth a few times in his room, and Jack could pick out the limp in his step. It was slight, but he could tell by the way his eyes were glued to the floor that the task was rather trying, the notion of consciously moving his missing limb foreign.

They spent most of the night just talking, cracking dumb jokes and occasionally thumbing through a few of Hiccup's comic books, seated on the floor beside his bed.

Just as usual, Jack slept on the floor that night.

July

The town held a fair in the green for the 4th of July, so the Overlands and the Haddocks went down to check it out.

Of course, Jack's first suggestion was for them to scope out the rides before anything else, so the two of them slowly made their way around the green to see what was there. As they walked, Hiccup could feel himself stumbling a bit with each step. He tried keeping his eyes ahead or on the boy thoughtlessly babbling at his side, but felt them anxiously dart down to his feet. Each guilty glance threw him off a few steps, forcing him to slow his pace and focus on the bending joints and rolling of his "ankle". Jack must have caught him peeking from the corner of his eyes, judging by the scowl on his face when his eyes turned back up. He knocked his knuckles into his shoulder, reminding him that there was "no peeking, doofus". Hiccup tried to keep his eyes up for the rest of the walk, but nearly fell on his face when he stepped rather awkwardly and stumbled forward.

Jack caught him by the back of the shirt, bracing a hand on his chest to help him back up. He took a moment to regain his balance and sheepishly thanked the other boy, swatting away his hand once he managed to regain his composure. They started for the rides again, at a slower pace Jack had set without a word (and Hiccup appreciated that greatly, he did). As they came around the corner, Jack cut off the story he was telling mid-sentence and tapped the other boy on the arm. Hiccup looked up and the only comment the other had was "You're limping again." He even offered him an arm to hang onto if he couldn't keep his balance, but Hiccup was quick to shut that offer down, lest they endure the weird looks he was sure they'd get.

They ended up sitting in the grass for a while and just talking, reserving their plans to scope out the rides for a later occasion. Emma skipped over with Jamie trailing after her and a bounce in her step as the sun went down, a smile on her face. She reminded them that the fireworks would probably be starting soon and hurried off; following her comment, Jack grabbed onto Hiccup's arms and hoisted him back onto his feet. They made their way to the car to meet up with North at a sluggish pace, the older boy making a note to constantly check up on his best friend, simply to make sure he could make it there without any problems. He bopped him on the cheek when his eyes went down to his feet and reminded him to just move without thinking, to do what came naturally and try not to focus so much on the movement itself. And it worked, for the most part; Hiccup let himself go with the flow and found walking to be more comfortable doing so.

That is, until his thoughts returned to the foreign limb and—with a stiff step forward—he fell on his face. Only then did he take Jack up on his arm offer.

When they finally made it to the car, Emma and Jamie were already there, chatting away on the hood. North sat himself in the passenger's seat and swung open the door, his legs dangling over the side of the seat. He and Sven had made themselves comfortable chatting in the car. He greeted the two with a holler and warm smile, gesturing for them to come over. They managed to climb onto the very top of the car (though Jack slid off the back and stumbled onto the grass a few times, earning a stink eye and a loud HEY! Be careful! from North) to watch the fireworks. They started up when it had become completely dark, illuminating the sky with bursts of amber and crimson. Jack constantly glanced over to make sure the noise wasn't bothering Hiccup, only to find himself staring at the dorky little smile on his face, wide and childish.

Jack ended up falling asleep on the car-ride back to the house; his head leaned on Hiccup's shoulder in the backseat. Part of the younger boy had the urge to shove him back toward the window, but he simply didn't have the heart to act on the urge, so he awkwardly sat there, staring out the window, trying to ignore the little unconscious breaths in his ear.

He shook the other boy off when they finally made it back to the house; he gave him a pat on the shoulder and snuck out the door, thanking North for the ride and throwing Jack a quick wave (even though he was about... well, 90% sure he was half-asleep when he'd done so). His father trailed behind him and offered to feed Toothless so he could get some sleep after such an exciting night. So he nodded, thanked him, and carefully made his way up the stairs, hurrying into his room (as fast as his limping legs would allow him to) to throw on his pajamas. He tugged off the prosthetic and rubbed at his stump with a low hiss, lying back against the mattress for a brief moment.

Sleep eluded him that night. Perhaps it was all the soda he and Jack had at the fair, or maybe just the lingering excitement of bursting fireworks and quality time, so he scooted down the mattress and dived right into reassembling the stupid radio, finally getting all the pieces into place. He double-checked his work this time around and smiled proudly to himself when everything was exactly where it needed to be. The problem arose when he went back with a screwdriver to put the back panel on again, groaning with frustration when one part jutted out and prevented it from closely properly. As it turns out, he put it one of parts backwards, and he'd have to take it apart... again. And re-figure out what he did wrong—again.

But Hiccup was patient. He'd get it with time and determination; there was no doubt about that.

Author's Note: This was going to end with August, but the sum up was way too damn long. So~ next chapter we get the rest of the summer and high school begins~ Thanks for reading~