The Hidden World

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He should've known something was wrong, terribly wrong.

After Hiccup had woken up in the library of his university, still trembling from his nightmare, he had known something was off. So what had he done?

What he always did, when he had a feeling in his gut. He ignored it.

Embarrassed he had brushed away his notes sticking on cheeks, rubbing off any saliva with the aid of his longer sleeves. He had packed his notes into his backpack and stormed out of the dark building and into the bustling night life of the city. Where most people, finely dressed in high heels or tank tops, sauntered to the next club, Hiccup rushed past them to the quieter parts of the city, backpack bopping behind him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the gap between him and society stable as ever.

Now, when he opened the door to their apartment, the clock in the kitchen sitting at 10 past 11, always five minutes too fast, the feeling returned.

Something was indeed wrong, and he knew it.

His dream should've been warning enough. It was a dream of his early childhood, he's been walking with it hand by hand as he grew up. The meaning, a mystery, but never, in none of the numerous alternate versions ever, had the hand touched him. Neither had he been able to understand the meaning of the screeches of this unfamiliar thing.

So why had this same old nightmare changed all of a sudden?

Hiccup had never been one to believe in astrology, religion, or energy. Would he be perceptive to these esoteric stimulus, like his roommate, he would've listened to the warnings of his dreams, that lead him straight into his cold, dark home.

He rarely came back to a dark apartment. Jorge never liked to stay home after studying the whole day, would rather be found among the crowds Hiccup had just passed. He preferred living his life, going to the club and picking up on some girls, with little to no luck. Hiccup is later than usual, so Jorge might've already left.

Though even then, a warm light in the kitchen would usually greet him. Finn would always read his beloved books and eat some sweets on the sly. Then again, it's late, and Finn might've already left for bed. All of this has happened before, albeit rarely, but even then Finn would usually leave the kitchen light on for him, then joke in the morning how he accidentally forgot about it, it must've simply slipped my mind.

Hiccup walks past the dark kitchen. The book of the northern culture, which he had recommended to Finn, is laying wide open. Finn never leaves his book open, no less borrowed copies.

The stove is off as well, no red dot indicating it had been on. Dried spots of sauce decorate the table and working space. Finn and Hiccup have tried to get Jorge to clean after himself, and they are successful in periods, which is still an optimistic way to describe their arrangement.

Walking up to his bedroom, Hiccup notices the slits under Jorge's and Finn's doors to be lit, adding to the strange occurrence of their shared apartment. Usually they hang up in the kitchen, even when they have nothing to talk about. Finn reading his books, Jorge whipping up his burnt spaghetti, and if Hiccup doesn't fall asleep in the library, he usually doodles or reads beside Finn.

Then again, those two do sometimes end up fighting with each other. It's not easy to live along with gaping differences, and Jorge as Finn have a lot of them. The only thing they seem to agree on, is their friendship to Hiccup, and even that seems to be scarce to Jorge on some days. Though it has sufficed to play the mediator so far and keep the peace within the shared apartment.

Hiccup leans towards Finn's door and knocks softly. The missing answer confirms his suspicions.

"Finn, can I come in?" Hiccup calls, if only to let Finn know that it's him and not Jorge. It seems though, that Finn unfortunately doesn't even want to talk to him as well.