f u r y ;

❝Aren't they beautiful?❞

❝The sky is the ultimate art gallery just above us.❞

❝What's that over there?❞

❝These stars are nothing compared to the ones I've seen in your eyes.❞

❝Shooting star, make a wish.❞

❝It's actually a comet, but I'll still make one.❞

❝And if you look over there, you'll see Corvus.❞

❝Imagine if it could always be this way, even in the city.❞

❝Looks like a great night for flying..❞

❝Can you sing that one song? Y'know, the about the little star sweeper?❞

❝Never thought something so beautiful could exist in nature...❞

❝Astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another.❞

❝Wouldn't it be cool to name a star after yourself?❞

❝Y'know, your roof may not be the safest place for us to stargaze.❞

❝This is why you made me drive three hours out into the middle of nowhere?❞

❝Is that a-- wait, no, just an airplane.❞

❝I wouldn't mind falling asleep out here.❞

The further his friend spoke, the more estranged Hiro could not help but feel. It was not for Hiccup’s lack of trying, as the conviction given voice did ring true to those heroes of old one might read about in myths and legends of ancient origins. He was the type of person the brunette thought he ought to aspire to be– a diplomat of a peace-bent mindset. Yet in the face of the injustices the boy had undergone…perhaps the wound was still too fresh to be appeased by the lofty words of some fantastical idealist…

“Y-you don’t get it! None of you–” In the moment the words were issued did something arise from the boy’s throat which choked off speech, a great flood of emotion having wrought rubble of the cold and unyielding gates which formerly kept them at bay.

He’d practiced hard to play at normalcy; to pretend these thoughts were not a matter which plagued him at every waking hour. Even his brother, who did so undergo every trial to understand the struggles of his sibling was pointedly removed from this matter. An internal struggle which, Hiro thought, would only garner the elder’s disappointment, as well as his shame. But even this, in the face of his desperation, Hiro thought he could abide– if only it would yield the results for which he so desperately pined.

“I just…want it to stop hurting.”

     It was not something words could cure in a single conversation. It was not a wound you could simply slather sympathy upon and hope to see it healed a day later. It was loss and it was agony-- its end was ultimately something only he could bring about. Hiccup could do no more than lay down his empathy, his concerns, and his stance, and take a step back. What Hiro would make of it, however, was something else entirely.

     So no, he did not flinch upon his young friend’s outburst, no fright nor offense colouring his expression, still nothing but writ with knowing; understanding. It was clear it had been nagging at his conscience all this time, demanding some kind of resolution and angling for the darker path. It saw retribution as the only right to this pain, but he knew-- he knew revenge was a poison, and would underhandedly spur the hurt rather than soothe it. It would consume, and it would control, and once he would achieve these ends, his hands would never wash free of the blood and grime. 

     He would stain his hands with the filth, and it would never let go of his being forever after.

     The chieftain, face set in sorrow, decided then it was time to close their distance. He advanced, each step lagging and accented by the softest whine of his prosthetic. It clattered to a halt, when he fell to a knee, and drew the boy into his arms. He would take all of it; the sting, the anguish, if it meant there was no hurting anymore.

          ❝... Hey, it’s okay.❞ he murmured his consolations, hushed and gentle, ❝It’ll be okay.❞

     His brow wrinkled-- this was all he could give for now.

     His initial impression begged the following words--

                                          ❝Who-hoa--! It still works! This is fantastic--!❞

     Then, as the distance between he and the ground diminished, it turned into a little something like this---

          ❝Whoa, okay! Less fantastic! Less fantastic... !❞

                                                                      Look out--!❞

     His warning proved needless, for he soared right over the other’s head and.... into the lake. Well, it could be worse: he could’ve bypassed the lake completely and met a grisly end by slamming head first into the dirt. Not his idea of a departure. Breaching the surface and drawing a breath, the young chieftain floundered about unceremoniously whilst recovering his wits and bearings. A pause allowed for his success to sink in once more and he thrust his hands into the air, illustrating his hard-won triumph-- though actually only a bit of care to the metalwork garnered him this victory. 

     Shortly after his hands came back down upon the water, kicking up a splash, his expression contorted into that of regret.

          ❝Ohh Gods--❞ he unhooked his gliding leathers from the gauntlets and began for the shore, calling to the stranger he’d nearly struck prior, ❝Sorry! I, uh... I didn’t... get you on the head there, did I?❞

          ❛Look, don’t touch❜ had grown to be something of a foreign concept to a curiosity such as the Haddock’s. So, at last, he pursued his intrigue-- a business named ❛Mystery Shack❜. A rickety-seeming building, but bustling with neat little pockets of activity, which bestowed him some measure of confidence. A brief look around as he approached the door, and he entered.

     While it didn’t overwhelm, it amused, and Hiccup beamed at the strange and quirky all around. It must be popular with the young ones, given its fantastical air. Something did catch his eye in particular, however, and beckoned him closer. A rabbit-- with a great crown of horns. Was this a beast of the owner’s preferred lore? In which case, they would surely offer texts detailing such, right? He would investigate those assumptions shortly, but first, he would just... go ahead and test just how sharp those antlers were with a tap upon the peak--

                                    then it clattered to the ground, a wad of fur still clinging to its base.

     And he was stilled by the noise for a moment, before hastily stooping to rescue it.

Ohh dear, okay! I haven’t been on Hiccup like I should’ve so with this burst of muse outta nowhere, here comes an rp ad.

Laborious were these words to entreat Hiccup’s lips, confessions uttered with all the weight a fresh wound did bequeath its wearer. If one looked closely, it could be imagined that Hiccup was still bleeding– somewhere far beneath the surface. This gouge he carried not unlike a scar in spite of it’s recent affliction; able somehow to see and accept the permanence behind it.

Of all people, Hiro thought he would understand most what it was to feel as though you had lost everything. And yet, unlike Hiccup, it was upon his sleeve that Hiro wore his wounded heart, alongside all the brashness of youth which did become him– this being the very thing which stoked the fire in his chest beyond the breaking point. If the heat in itself was not too intense, then the smoke in turn did blind him (until now) to the truth Hiccup had brought to light: he did have a choice in the matter.

“Some guys…there’s no other way they can be stopped.” This insistence came softly, dark eyes pointedly averted from those meaning to hold his gaze captive. “What will you do when you run out of options? What would he have done?” The youth inquired. And, in that moment, it couldn’t be either discerned nor distinguished to who’s predicament he referred. Not when they queued up to a t as it were.

     The mask beneath which Hiccup sheltered for so so long was fracturing-- time opposed all foundations for a solid resolve, even where enemy fire was lacking or absent. He didn’t need another’s words to tear him down, though in this instance it was salting the wounds, and from there, it was only a matter of time. It was coming away in shards, and left in its place was the sad young man who hadn’t yet expended his tears. Still, none did bloom to gloss the rueful verdancy fixed upon his companion, searching the other’s sorrow-writ features for some crack in the armour. 

                   Loss was a powerful thing-- and it could turn most anyone rotten.

     Tightening his mouth and of temperate wording, the chieftain parried the notion his friend put forth.

          ❝There’s always another way.❞ he asserted; perhaps Hiro saw his optimism as empty, having no weight.

     He had to thwart this way of thinking, for all it promised was a new make of pain. Their situations were aligned, in a manner, and so, his statement wasn’t so much reassuring himself-- but the other.

          ❝It doesn’t matter-- because I’m not him. And I couldn’t let myself become him.❞ faith punctuated each word riding an steadfast delivery.

"*yawn* I'm not tired I swear..."

"I'm too tired for this shit."

"Would you get mad if I fell asleep on you? You're so comfy.."

"You can take a nap on me if you want."

*wiggles around while dreaming like a sleeping puppy*

"I just had the weirdest dream... and you were in it!"

"My snoring's not that bad..."

"I do not snore!"

"Do I really snore?"

"I'm trying to sleep here!"

"That doesn't look like a very comfortable place to sleep."

*yawn*

"I do not drool when I sleep!"

"Do I really drool when I sleep?"

"If you do the cold water prank on me while I'm sleeping I'll kill you."

"If you do the whipped cream and feather prank on me while I'm sleeping you're dead to me."

*sleepy mumbling noises*

"Do I really talk in my sleep?"

"Do I say anything interesting when I talk in my sleep?"

"Have a nice nap?"

"Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Want me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"You can sleep in my bed if you want."

"Your snoring kept me up all night."

"Go to sleep already..."

"You were crying in your sleep... is everything alright?"

"Bad dreams again?"

"Not another nightmare is it?"

"You look exhausted, you should get some sleep."

*draws mustache on you while you sleep*

"You woke me up... I was having a nice nap too..."

"I wanna go back to bed..."

"Wh-? I jus' woke up..."

"You sleep too much."

"You don't sleep enough"

"You look so cute when you're asleep. So peaceful."

At first it was silent and brooding disappointment that Hiro expected to receive. However, Hiccup’s brief interlude bred an expression of another sort; a vague notion of something beyond mere “comprehension” blooming behind emerald eyes. Whether or not he could call the other’s expression out for the better or worse…Hiro couldn’t hopefully know. But the words to follow struck a chord somewhere deep– strung and battered at it mercilessly in lieu of the hypocritical judgments to which Hiro had become acclimated.

And– suddenly, he felt to be every bit the disappointment he’d anticipated.

“I should have known that you’d be just like them.” Loathing, not only directed towards the murder on his mind– but at himself boiled to a head; a reflection that in that moment left Hiro with the vague desire to be stripped of feeling entirely. If only this luxury were something he could turn off and on like a lightswitch…perhaps saying so wouldn’t have left him feeling so alone.

“How can you still believe in something like that after…after what happened? Aren’t you angry?”

    No, he hadn’t expected to secure agreement upon first attempt, as loss nestled itself deep within you; took root at your core and laced into your being. It wasn’t so easily plucked from place as a flower would be, and its grip was iron on Hiro--- as it had been himself, as it still very well might be. But no matter the crime, he couldn’t fathom killing. He wouldn’t dare cross that line.

    When at last a response did grace his plea, coloured in discontent, Hiccup’s shoulders sagged. A shake of his head, casting aside his gaze while he gathered thought for another gently composed reply. Memory, like a waking nightmare, flooded his mind-- of war, of fire, of Drago-- and a weak sigh escaped him.

         ❝I was.... furious, I-I was--❞ his voice quaked.

         ❝... I lost my dad, I lost my best friend-- but I....,❞ another shake of his head, partnered with a shrug starved its usual vigor, ❝... couldn’t.❞

     A brief silence settled amid the moment, before he fixed his young comrade with a look, once writ with conflict, now firm.

         ❝There was another way, and I chose it.❞

“So what makes your’s right and mine wrong? I almost–” He’d almost lost everything. But Hiccup was well aware of that little tidbit. Why then he saw fit to contest Hiro’s point of view was beyond him. “It’s not the same thing… My brother never did anything to deserve what he got. But Professor Callaghan…he earned it.”

     The boy was hurting, and he knew that fire hungry for retribution all too well. The peace he’d tried to spur into becoming slipped through his fingers, and at the cost of a father-- it was this reminiscence that lulled the young chieftain’s features into a soft tone of knowing, and woe.

     That kind of pain was a gash on the heart. It either scarred, or it festered.

          ❝... I know, bud.❞ his brows drew together tightly, ❝But if you let yourself go to that place, if you let yourself become what you hate--- you’ll never forgive yourself.❞