I taught myself to not feel anything. And now I’ve healed, but I still haven’t found anything worth feeling.

philophobia

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” He sat up properly, his pillow supporting his back. “I’m sick due to your lack of visits, and you’re leaving me… again.” To him, there was nothing wrong with being selfish and guilt-tricking the fearling into staying. Not like it would actually work. Sighing, Hiccup closed his eyes. 

"You’re sick because you decided to look for me in the snowy wasteland that was Berk last night,” If Hiccup was looking for pity, he was looking to the wrong spirit. Jack was more than certain he’d used it all up the night before. “Also, dunno if you remember, but you owe me a new cloak. Preferably one less snot covered. On second thought, not snot covered at all.” 

The ride was more or less not first class, but durable enough. As they arrived to the lair, he pulled himself away from Jack and took in everything his eyes could view. But his attention drawn back to Jack.

“Trial and Error?” He supplied helpfully, giving Hiccup the most complacent of shrugs. Jack was more or less going to let the new fearling fend for himself, especially after the comment, but he was better than that. Or he had to be. If word got to the Nightmare King that he was shirking off his duties (again), there’d be hell to pay. 

A smile tugged at his lips, oblivious to Jack’s inner turmoil becoming progressively worse. In the early hours of the morning, light started to peep through the closed ripped drapes which hung over his window.

The night had never felt so long. Jack lay curled in the hard wooden chair, face buried in his arms to keep the light from disturbing him. His legs were drawn so tightly to his chest that he could feel his heart beat against his thighs. Only when he heard Hiccup shift did he lift his head, quirking a brow in silent greeting. 

As Jack had promised, his dreams were left untouched. No time during the night did his expression contort into fear, or did he scream out his dad’s name. He felt at peace, and not only because he was nightmare free. But Jack was beside him, and wasn’t going anywhere.

He’d taken to looking at anything in the room that wasn’t Hiccup; from the saddle hanging up in the far corner to the sketches and diagrams tacked to the wall. The fearling’s gaze snapped back to Hiccup at the murmur of his name, trying and failing to ignore the way his stomach flipped.