To Be Loved the Way You Love Me
Life on Berk turns upside down when a sixteen year old boy traveling with a dark past, a world of hurt, and a Night Fury washes up on its shores. The love-starved boy will only tell people one thing about his past: His name is Hiccup. But where did he live before? And why doesn't he trust anyone?
Chapter 44: If You're Curious
This is like a really bad retelling of Twilight with father/son instead of Bella/Edward. And, also, dragons. That is all. This is pretty crappy. I tried. I'm sorry. Hopefully, you guys will be too overcome with feels to notice :)
The wind had begun blowing in through our window about a half hour after our conversation and I sat there on the edge of the bed for a little while, but soon I had reluctantly pulled the blanket back over myself, feeling like a weakling as I did so.
Outcast Island had taught me that being cold meant you weren't a real man and, despite how many times I'd tried to rid myself of what I'd been taught, some of them stuck with me.
I glanced up at Stoick, wondering if those were the sort of principles that he practiced; clearly not, since he'd made his concern for me sleeping in the forge clear.
I remembered that night like it was yesterday, the way he'd stopped me from going out the door; the way he'd rested a hand on my shoulder and rubbed soothing circles into my back as he spoke. He was the first person who'd ever done that sort of thing for me.
It had left a warm, content feeling in my chest, like somebody had filled me up with heat, so I remained warm in the dead of winter.
That place in me that had warmed so suddenly had always felt a little cold, a little hollow; the coldness was back again, now that I realized that Stoick's concern was a cruel joke.
My hands fisted tightly when I realized I would never feel that way again. The warmth, the heat, the feeling of being loved and wanted and protected, it had all faded away. And I didn't think Stoick really cared at all.
The hopeful voice in my mind whispered at me that Stoick had tried to tell me I wasn't less than. He'd tried to say something. I just didn't believe he really cared so much.
My face heated as I glanced down at my hands; it wasn't the pleasant sort of heat that had filled me up with affection the night Stoick had offered me a place in his spare bedroom or carried me up to bed when I was half-asleep. It was an entirely different kind, an ashamed blush.
I'd wanted to believe differently and I'd shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind, but now they wouldn't quit torturing me. Stoick had never cared about me and – if I was being honest with myself – could I blame him?
I mean, look at me. What kind of father wanted me for a son? What kind of person could look at me and see me as a son? What kind of person would ever want me in their family?
Well, if Stoick didn't, that was fine by me. Who the hell cared, anyway? I certainly didn't. I was leaving Berk. I didn't care what anyone here thought of me. Why should I? I didn't. I didn't. I didn't.
I think I almost convinced myself.
But…if Stoick didn't care…why had he wasted time acting like he did? He didn't. He couldn't. I wasn't his son. He'd said it himself. I didn't have any connection to Berk. I shouldn't be here. Why should Stoick let me stay? What did he care? Did he care? At all? Or was it stupid of me to get my hopes up like this?
Stoick's gaze flickered back to me and again, the look of concern overtook his features – the same one he'd worn when he offered me a bedroom – and he frowned slightly. "I was actually curious about something," he commented, setting down his carving knife and turning to me. "You say you're leaving Berk, right?"
"Yes, sir," I nodded slightly.
His frown deepened. "Where will you go?"
"What?" I asked.
"If you don't wish to tell me, I understand," he told me. "But you say you're leaving, but you don't have anywhere to go."
I hadn't actually thought of this and now it sunk in; I was leaving here and I had nowhere to go. I had no one to run to. I was so used to having somebody – Stoick, Gobber, somebody, somewhere – to run to on Berk that it felt strange to realize Toothless and I were gonna be on our own again.
The thought actually made my eyes sting with tears again, but I refused to shed them. I'd never cried in front of Stoick before and I didn't plan on making it a habit.
I blinked rapidly, hoping the tears would vanish. "Um…sir…I…" I planned on just saying that I didn't want to tell him, just saying that I had somewhere, but what tumbled out of my mouth was the truth. "I…I don't know."
Stoick nodded. His mouth drew down at the corners. "I see." he said softly.
His tone made me realize how stupid this looked: a teenage boy with nothing but a dragon, nowhere to go and no one on his side leaving the island that had offered to house him. Stoick must think I was insane.
"There are islands, though," I tried to sound convincing. "I-I know people. I'll…I'll do something. I'll fix it."
There was another silence.
Stoick just nodded again. "You'll find something," he said solemnly, like he was repeating what I'd said. "I see."
He turned away from me for a second or two and when he looked back up, his eyes widened in alarm. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yes," I replied, not sure why he looked so alarmed.
"You're crying," he commented softly.
I reached up, rubbing absently at my cheek, but he leaned over and brushed them away for me. The simple movement reminded me of the phrase: 'dry your tears'. I'd never understood when somebody said it like that: "I'll be there to dry your tears".
I thought it was always stupid, but his action made it pop into my head and I swallowed, feeling more tears begin to build up.
I swiped at my eyes angrily as Stoick muttered something above me. I turned to him. "What?"
"I didn't mean to upset you," he repeated. He rested a hand on my shoulder; the touch made me flinch backward slightly and, though the lines around his eyes tightened with sadness, he gave no other indication that I had done anything out of the ordinary. "I was only curious."
"I…I know," I whispered. If I kept talking, I just knew the floodgates were gonna open and I was going to cry for real, so I tried to keep it short and sweet. "I wasn't thinking about what you said."
"I didn't mean you had nowhere," Stoick's gaze softened slightly. "I meant if you don't count Berk."
"Oh." My throat was closing up; I swiped determinedly at my eyes again and again, trying not to make it obvious. My breathing was starting to get more rapid and my heart felt like it was beating too fast. I swallowed several times, ignoring the lump in my throat.
I stared down very hard at the blankets. "Um…actually…I think…I should…" my voice broke suddenly and to my horror, the tears burst forth and I couldn't stop them.
Stoick looked alarmed and he stood from his chair, sinking to his knees beside my bed, reaching out for me like he wanted to hug me, maybe, but thought better of it at the last second.
I tried to stop myself, but the tears just kept on coming and I gave up and let them fall onto the blanket. Stoick hesitated for a second longer and then he pulled me into a hug and let me sob into his chest for a second or two. I wanted to pull away from him and tell him something – anything – but the warm feeling was back in my chest and so I just clung to him as tightly as I could as I sobbed harder than I ever had.
Stoick didn't ask me about it, either; he just sat there, smoothing down my hair and whispering in my ear, "It's okay. It's alright, Hiccup. You're alright." I detected tears in his voice as well, but I shut my ears to everything but the comforting, soothing sound of somebody who wanted me.
He didn't care that I was clinging to him like a child, he didn't care that I was a Viking and Vikings don't cry. He didn't care. He held me close and he kept quiet. I was trembling, or maybe that was him; I'm not sure. All I knew was that I was holding him and he was holding me and everything was right, for the moment.
I knew it had to end; everything good does.
But I made it last, just a little longer than I should have. It was like when he'd carried me to bed all over again; I was being weak and I knew it, but if nobody but him saw me being weak this way, it was okay. Because he wouldn't judge me. I knew that. Or, at least, I was pretty sure of it.
I clung to him and cried harder than I could ever remember crying. I felt his hands, warm on my back through the thin fabric of my shirt. My tears were starting to slow, but I didn't move; I sat there, letting him hold me.
"Hiccup— he whispered. He stopped himself. He tried again. "Hiccup…" he trailed off again and shook his head slightly, wretchedly.
I wasn't sure what to say, either, so for a time, I didn't say a word. The things we hadn't and should have said by now nudged me gently. I didn't want to say them, because I was too afraid…but if this man had held me while I cried and offered me a home and a family, I was willing to believe that he wouldn't react badly to this.
"I love you." I tried. My voice threatened to break again. It had been such a long time since I'd said the words.
I could hear him drawing a sharp breath, like he was gasping. His arms were suddenly away from me; he was holding me much more awkwardly than before.
I've blown it, I thought bitterly to myself. I always do. Of course he's not going to say anything. It's not that he doesn't care; he just doesn't love you. He's doing it out of pity. Don't you dare take his pity.
I tightened my lips; I gritted my teeth and was about to pull away when I heard him whisper back, "I love you, too." he slowly hugged me again, tighter than before. "You're alright, you know that? You're safe. I won't let anybody hurt you."
The words were nice; they were comforting and warming. I clung to him tighter, tricking myself into believing they were real for a few seconds, before an unpleasant thought occurred to me. My eyes flew open and my grip on him loosened. "Um, uh…D—Stoick?"
I felt my cheeks heat as he looked at me curiously; so he'd heard me slip up and start to say 'Dad', too. I had a defense for the first time, but not this one. I swallowed and bit down hard on my lip.
He cleared his throat. "Go on."
"Did…did Alvin say anything? About…about when I was on Outcast Island?" At his confused look, I hastened to explain. "You…you said you're not gonna let anybody hurt me. It…it made me…" I dropped my eyes to the floor; he tilted my chin upward so I was forced to look at him. My lip had started to bleed by now with how hard I'd been biting down with my front teeth. "It made me think of Alvin," I admitted quietly. "I was wondering…whether he'd told you anything…by…by the way you're acting."
His gaze softened. He pulled me into another hug. "A little," he admitted. "He didn't say much. He was trying to convince me to free him from my conditions, specifically the one including you." he drew a deep breath. "He tried telling me…some of the things that happened. I don't believe them, Hiccup. He told me…he told me…never mind." he shook his head, like he couldn't believe he'd so nearly told me; like I had to be protected or something.
"What…what did he say?" I pressed, a little nervously.
"Just…things." he hesitated. "I'm…I guess I'm still wondering if they're true."
My heart thudded. "What do you mean?"
"I…I shouldn't ask you," he said quickly. He released me from the hug, but he looked shifty. "It's…it's your business."
"What do you want to know?" I asked nervously. "I mean…" I glanced down at the wooden floor again for a second or two. "I can…can tell you a little…if you're curious, I mean."
