Look at Me

Their Reality

9:14 p.m.

I just want you to have peace.

Me too.

The argument still stung Jack in the back of his mind. He had hurt her, Jack knew that. Just like he hurt everyone. He loved Elsa, but she didn't need his baggage. The fight had made Jack realize that not even her love could fill the emptiness in his chest. Right now it hurt, like every muscle inside of him was knotting up.

Sitting in the darkness of his room, having not moved from his desk chair for over an hour, he mulled over Elsa's pained face and enraged rant all over again. They both apologized, Elsa was a puddle of tears. When all was resolved, Jack sent her off with a kiss, telling her not to worry and that none of this was her fault. She assumed he'd meant their blow out, but that's not what Jack was referring to.

His father's voice was overpowering Elsa's, the hurtful words Jack had spent years trying to forget. Then his mother's disappointed, anguished face flashed in his mind.

Earlier, Hiccup had walked by, "Hey, you not going to class?" He asked casually.

"Cancelled." Jack had fibbed.

"Heh, lucky you." Hiccup chortled. "Astrid's got her recital tonight, then we might go eat."

"All right."

Hiccup paused, "Since—you know—since class is cancelled and all that, how about you come?"

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"Aight. Suit yourself. Later, bud."

It was a good thing Hiccup was used to Jack's succinct responses, otherwise he might not have left him alone. Hiccup was gone, so now was the time to act.

...

11:00 p.m.

Hiccup let himself inside.

As soon as he did, there was an eerie feeling.

Hiccup couldn't place his finger on why... Jack normally spent late nights locked up in his room while the house was silent, but it was one of those moments where it was 'too quiet.'

"Jack?" He called, masking his discomfort. But once he got upstairs, his fears were alleviated. The bathroom light was on and he could hear what sounded like the shower. Paranoid, as usual. He kicked himself and went to his room to collapse into bed.

Even though there was a reasonable explanation for why he'd come home to such a bizarre atmosphere, Hiccup couldn't shake it. Not even after he changed into pajamas and started to get comfortable. He lied his head on the pillow, telling himself to forget about it. Then the most mundane detail made him pick his head right back up.

Jack's door was open. He never left it open.

Heart galloping and stomach dropping, Hiccup hurried outside the bathroom door. The water was still running. He knocked—no, he pounded. "Jack?" He tried the handle. Locked.

Misunderstanding or not, Hiccup wouldn't risk it. He banged his side against the door as hard as he could. He wasn't built for busting doors in, but with adrenaline, it only took him four tries before it gave. The first thing he saw was the sink running, then the puddle of vomit. And beside it, Jack's stilled face.

Like an explosion had deafened him, Hiccup didn't hear himself when he shouted his name so loud that it could wake their neighbors. Before he could allow the panic to settle in, he ran for his phone and dialed as he dropped to his knees over Jack. His eyes were half-open and glazed over.