Finding Hiccup - Modern!Au ✔️

fifty four

The weird thing is, I lost my sunglasses that night and I didn't even notice until Dad suddenly said, "Henry! You're not wearing your dark glasses!"
And I wasn't. My eyes were bare. After all those months. And it took Dad to point it out to me.
We were in the police waiting room at the time, and the nice police woman, Sinead, got the wrong end of the stick and thought we were complaining and that we'd lost a pair of dark glasses on the premises. It took a while for us to explain that I didn't want them back.
And I don't. I'm good the way I am. The world seems lighter, although I don't know if that's because of the dark glasses or because I'm back on my meds. For now. Dr. Gobber gave me this whole great lecture about the dangers of coming off meds without supervision and how it can cause dizziness (check) and a racing heart (check) and loads of other symptoms and I must promise never to do it again. Which I did.
The stuff he gave me kind of knocked me out, so I've been sleeping a lot these last two days, but everyone's come into my room to see me, like, all the time.

To make sure I'm still here, I guess.
Dad has told me about the new song he's writing, and Heather has shown me endless YouTube clips of knife skills (which she is getting very boring about) and Snotlout has told me he cut the hair of his friend Ben at school and Ben cried. This is apparently true, according to Dad, but Snotlout maintains that Ben cried "because he was happy."
Mum's been in to see me the most. She sat on my bed all afternoon and we watched Little Women, which is like the perfect movie to watch with your mum when you're in bed, feeling a bit weird. (The old one with Elizabeth Taylor, in case you're wondering.)
While we were watching, we coloured in the Heartstopper Colouring Book. This is Mum's new thing: she buys colouring books and we do them together. Neither of us is very good at it, but...you know. It's nice. It's relaxing. It's not about anything. And Mum just sits on my bed, hanging out, not looking anxiously around the room, not trying to get clues to my thoughts. I don't think she needs clues anymore. She knows. Or at least, she knows enough.
It was while I was finishing colouring in Nick's coat that I said, "Mum, why don't you go back to work?"
Mum kind of stiffened. She carefully coloured Elle's t-shirt purple before looking up and saying, "Work?"
"Yes, work. You haven't been for ages. Not since..." I trailed off.
"Well, it's been difficult." Mum gave a short laugh.
"I know. But you're brilliant at your job. And you win prizes and you wear great jackets..."

Mum threw back her head and laughed again. "Darling, you don't go to work just to wear great jackets." She thinks for a moment. "Well, most of the time you don't."
"You're staying at home because of me, aren't you?" I persisted.
"Sweetheart..." Mum sighed. "I love being here with you. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
"I know."
There was silence and we watched as Jo turned down Laurie's proposal, which, every time I watch it, I wish she would say yes.
"But still, I think you should go back to work," I said. "You're all shiny when you're at work."
"Shiny?" Mum seemed a bit taken aback.
"Shiny. Like, super-mum."
Mum looked incredibly touched. She blinked a few times and picked up a red colouring pencil, and then said,
"It's not as simple as that, Henry. I might have to travel, there are long hours, you're starting a new school..."
"So we'll make it work," I said, as robustly as I could. "Mum, there's no point me getting better if things don't get better for all of us. I mean, we've all had a bad time, haven't we?"
I'd been thinking about that all morning. About how it would be easy for me to get better and spring happily through the door, and leave Mum and Dad and Heather and Snotlout behind. But it shouldn't be like that. We were all affected by what happened. We should all spring happily out of the door together.
Well, you know. Maybe Heather could slouch happily.
We watched for a while more in silence. Then Mum said, as though she was carrying on the same conversation,
"Dr. George told me why you ditched your meds. You wanted to have a straight graph?"

My heart kind of sank. I had really not wanted to get onto the subject of meds. But I might have known it would come up.
"I wanted to be better," I mumbled, feeling hot. "You know. Properly, one hundred percent better. No meds, nothing."
"You are better." Mum put my face between her hands, just like she used to when I was a little boy. "Sweetheart, you're so much better every week. I mean, you're a different boy. You're ninety percent there. Ninety-five percent. You must be able to see that."
"But I'm sick of this bloody jagged graph," I said in frustration. "You know, two steps up, one step down. It's so painful. It's so slow. It's like this endless game of snakes and ladders."
And Mum just looked at me as if she wanted to laugh or maybe cry, and she said, "But, Henry, that's what life is. We're all on a jagged graph. I know I am. Up a bit, down a bit. That's life."
And then Jo met Professor Bhaer, so we had to watch that bit.
And then Beth died. So I guess the March sisters were on their own jagged graph too.