He didn't know when exactly he had decided to fight, but he would always remember how it felt the first time he did.

He felt small when facing the thug before him, but big enough to stand up. He felt weak when he was struck, but strong enough to resume his fight. He felt afraid, but brave-and angry-enough to begin.

Anger made him feel stronger than bravery could, as a matter of fact. Sometimes that scared him, other times he just channeled it and let it simmer. He could be explosive in tight situations, but he was alright with that most days. It just meant he had nothing left to lose. He didn't, after all. Not since his father was murdered. That was when he first began to fight.

His father had been all he had-except for Toothless, of course-and when he lost him in such a terrible way with no one to turn to he had… well, changed.

The anger had only grown in the past few months. He didn't realise how buried in it he was until he was in too deep to try to escape it. One evening when he had little else to do but pace in his restless way, he picked up his phone and without any real reason, looked at his messages. There were several he received at semi-regular intervals, the most recent being a week ago that had gone unanswered from Gobber, his old mentor, regarding his well-being, and beyond that many from his friends from school and around town. The messages themselves were nothing unsurprising: friends wondering if he was okay, how he was holding up, if he needed any help and whether he wanted to catch up. They eventually stopped, supposedly when everyone finally realised that he didn't want to "catch up," nor did he want their "help." What did surprise him, however, was that the last message he had received from any one of them was from six weeks prior, and it dawned on him how long he had shut everyone out.

He avoided going into town as much as possible for the first month after his father's funeral. He hadn't even considered going to the store until he got his latest electricity bill in the mail and figured his pointless opening and closing the door of his empty refrigerator was costing him more money than buying a year's worth of food would. That also made him realise that he needed to make some money if he wanted to resume living in the house he grew up in. The money his father left him would only get him so far, he reasoned when he put fifty of his one hundred-ten acres up for sale and returned to work at his old shop the following week.

Gobber had smiled warmly at him and clapped a hand to his shoulder when he walked into the odd shop, looking like he wanted to ask how he had been doing, but he must have seen something when he looked at Hiccup that made him think better of it. Retreating to his workroom with a grateful smile, Hiccup noticed the thin sheet of dust that covered the surface and brushed a small portion away, reaching to the shelf on the wall for the sketchbook designated to his leatherwork.

Thumbing through the pages, his eyes came to rest on a page he had dedicated to designing a simple new steering wheel cover for his father's work car. He remembered his father complaining of the smell of his old one, and how the edges were annoyingly fringed from how often he wrung them in his steely grip when he was stressed out. Hiccup had promised he would make him a new one later that week when the new leather he had ordered had come in, but his father had died the day before the leather had arrived, found in the old milk box at the foot of the security gate, innocent to how Hiccup had nearly fallen to his knees when he realised what it was. Eyes suddenly blurry and burning, Hiccup ripped the page out of the sketchbook and crushed it in his fist, throwing it at the wastebin across the room and scowling when it bounced off the rim.

Flipping to a new page he reached for a 2B pencil and stared at the blank page before him, the realization that he hadn't sketched anything since he had last been at the shop dawning on him. He had been caught in a creative block for over six weeks and he hadn't even known it. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone he slipped on his earbuds, turning on an auto playlist to assist his focus as he began mindlessly sketching, trying to find a workable idea in his doodles.

Hiccup spent a good half hour drawing, erasing and huffing into the single sketchbook page until the pleasant white it had been when he began had transformed into an uneven shade of gray, smudged from the graphite smears and ripped in a few places from too much pressure. Sighing heavily he lifted the book and closed it in one hand, rubbing his eyelids hard with the other.

The front desk was stationed to the left outside his workroom, typically making it easier to hear the whoosh of the shop door when it opened. Gobber had complained about not being able to hear the door from the back of the shop or in the breakroom, and Hiccup had suggested a doorbell system, but he never had had time to make one, his typical work day was either full of projects of his own or commissions from his customers, so they had settled with an annoying service bell that seemed only loud enough for dogs and Hiccup to hear, even though Gobber's main workshop was right across the hall from his own. Upon removing his earbuds, Hiccup's ears were deprived of the folksy twang of Mumford and Sons and assaulted with one continuous ringing of the bell. He tossed his sketchbook back on his desk as he stood and exited his workroom, an incredulous look marring his face.

Slumping against the tall oak desk stood his cousin, his meaty hand attacking the little brass bell on the counter, making it sound like it was screaming for mercy. Hiccup crossed the room quickly and closed a fist around the bell, silencing it and scowling when his hand was slapped continuously as if the bell was still ringing. The dark-haired man hadn't even seemed to have noticed that the object of his entertainment had been compromised.

"Snotlout," Hiccup scolded, his nose wrinkling in frustration when he discovered the overpowering stench of alcohol on the man's breath.

"Cuz!" he shouted, so loud Hiccup cringed and shushed him. Snotlout then giggled, sounding much like an eight year old before lifting his finger to his lips and mockingly shushing Hiccup back.

"Snotlout, it's one-thirty in the afternoon, how much have you had to drink?" Hiccup couldn't help but be surprised, his cousin did enjoy his drink, but he didn't get drunk too often for a twenty year-old, not to mention Hiccup had never seen him drink during the day outside of the occasional party, family or otherwise.

"Much," he said simply, dragging out the 'M' while he shifted his weight clumsily from foot to foot.

Hiccup sighed exasperatedly before turning to the back of the shop and yelling, "Gobber, I've gotta step out for a few minutes," thinking it wise to refrain from disclosing too much information, he turned back to Snotlout, "c'mon, I'll take you home. Just be quiet."

"Shh!" Snotlout whispered and again put his finger to his lips. Hiccup jogged back into his workroom to retrieve his keys and hurried back out to the lobby, where Snotlout was already stumbling to the door. Grabbing his arm, Hiccup ushered his cousin around the side of the building into the alleyway leading to the back lot. Thankful that only four cars ever parked in the squared off back lot, he knew no one would spot them leaving. The only ways in were from the alley between Gobber's shop and the building next door-that Hiccup had yet to go inside-and the short two-lane stretch leading to the street. He had never even seen the back doors to the shops surrounding the lot open, nor had he ever seen anyone on a smoke break, it was always empty whenever he passed through it, and he had never been more thankful for it than he was now, hauling his drunk cousin stumbling and giggling behind him.

Rounding the corner of the alley way, he snuck a glance at the back door to Gobber's shop, ensuring his mentor hadn't stepped out to retrieve something from his car or anything before beginning to cross the lot. They were almost halfway across when Hiccup glanced to the only egress point and saw the black car stretched across both lanes, and the three men clustered outside it, one swinging a pair of keys around a finger.

"Hey!" Snotlout suddenly burst out, startling Hiccup and attracting the attention of the men across the lot, "those are MY keys!"

"Snotlout, leave them alone!" Hiccup scolded in a hushed voice and tugged him along. He just assumed his cousin was acting paranoid that somebody had stolen his keys in his drunk state before he heard the snarky voice.

"Well, well, if it isn't snotty Scotty! You lookin' to win back your car? Double or nothing!" the voice dared. Hiccup came to an abrupt halt and whipped his head back to Snotlout for an explanation.

"You've been gambling?" he scoffed in disbelief when the dark-haired man shrugged, "I can't believe you!"

"Gimme back my keys!" Snotlout demanded and lurched forward, knocking into Hiccup's side and knocking them both off balance. Hiccup did his best to restrain him, but even drunk his cousin was much stronger than him.

"Whoa, looks like somebody's feeling feisty!" one of the men laughed, all three of them advancing.

"We don't want any trouble," Hiccup called to them, still trying to pull his cousin along. His car was so close, he thought, hoping he didn't look as desperate as he felt.

The man grasping the keys held them up and shook them tauntingly, a smug smile on his lips, "You might not be, be he sure is," he responded, "he got kicked out of the bar after he lost to us because he was throwing shot glasses. Got Mason here right in the head."

'Mason' turned his head and gestured to an ugly swollen gash on his temple which had evidently been disinfected already, for it was clean of blood and adorned three butterfly bandages. Hiccup winced at the sight and tightened his grip on Snotlout's forearm. He had the suspicion that they weren't getting out of here before the men had avenged their friend's forehead, and the odds certainly weren't in their favor. They were outnumbered, not to mention one of their number was in a heavily altered state and the other weighed barely 120 pounds and had never gotten into an actually fight outside the playground-if those beat-downs could even be considered fights.

There's no was we'll win this fight, Hiccup thought, feeling ten times smaller than he was.

Mason advanced and grabbed a fistful of Snotlout's shirt, tugging the unsteady man forward, "How about I give you a cut to match?" he threatened.

Hiccup, losing his grip on his cousin's arm, attempted to get between the two, still trying to calm them all and was shoved away with brute force by the man that still held Snotlout's keys. He slammed onto the ground, wincing when heard his own teeth clack together. Positioning to push off his elbows, he hadn't gotten off the ground before a boot came crashing down on his ribcage with the force of a warhammer, forcing the air out of his lungs and slamming his head against the asphalt. He gasped harshly at the pain shooting through his skull. He rolled over slowly, grasping his head as his vision swam. When it finally steadied he took a deep breath and lifted off his feet again, stumbling a bit before he whirled around and launched himself at the man who had shoved him, forming a fist and drawing back, feeling his hand painfully make contact with the man's sharp cheekbone. He continued to rush past after the blow had been struck, and when he clumsily came to a stop, he found a sick sort of satisfaction in the sharp sting the clamped down on his knuckles.

The third member of the offending party grabbed Hiccup by the back of his shirt, swinging him back around to face the man he had hit, "Hold him there, Coop!" he snarled, teeth red from the new bloody nose he sported, "that punch wasn't bad, for a beginner, but I know how to throw a real punch."

Hiccup seized up as the man drew back his fist, noticing clear calluses evident on his knuckles from a dozen past fights. Hiccup was about to scar them up a little more.

Hiccup doubled over as a blow was laid into his stomach, sputtering he tried to gulp in the air that was stolen from him. Three hits, one after another were laid to his face and he felt Coop struggle with his weight as his legs gave out. His gasps resembled that of an air-starved swimmer as he desperately attempted to regain his balance. Pain seared across his cheek at the next hit, and Hiccup swore he heard the blood splatter on the pavement, although where it came from he couldn't tell. He coughed dryly, his throat sore from his agonal breaths. A hand fisted in his hair yanked his head up to meet eyes of the man assaulting him.

"Had enough yet?" blind with stubborn fury, Hiccup spat at him. To his credit, the man didn't even flinch. Instead he smirked with a sick kind of joy, "No? Alright then," a kick to the side accompanied the onslaught of fists to his head and torso. This time, when his feet gave out Coop simply let him fall.

"Now stay down," the man commanded, but Hiccup was always too stubborn to take orders, even when his blood was splattered like paint on the asphalt. Somehow Hiccup was able to stumble to a standing position, although his stance wavered dangerously. The man tsked at him like a disapproving teacher.

"Take him down, Cain," called a voice to the side. Hiccup had completely forgotten about Mason, who currently was making good on his promise to give Snotlout a cut to match his own. From where he stood, he wasn't sure he could recognize his cousin's face through the thin sheet of blood that covered half of it.

"Let's wrap this up, fellas, I'm sure Haddock here has to get back to work," Cain sneered, Snotlout's keys reappearing in his bloodied hand and he stepped forward to fish Hiccup's phone out of his pocket-thankfully he had left his wallet in his car that morning before he went into the shop. Hiccup blanched when Cain used his name. These men knew them both, knew where Hiccup worked and knew that Snotlout would come to him. They had been purposely waiting for them so they could have some more fun. Upon seeing Hiccup's bewildered and outraged expression, Cain cocked his head innocently, "Aw, what's wrong Haddock? You must not watch the news much if you really think we don't know who you are. Sorry to hear about Daddy, by the way."

That retort was what made Hiccup snap. Besides his target, he saw nothing but red as he surged forward. Cain didn't have time to avoid the hit that sent him stumbling to the side. Hiccup anticipated Coop's strike and ducked below the swing, using the leverage to power an uppercut, feeling a strong crunch when it made contact. Coop was knocked completely back, giving Hiccup enough time to stagger back to Cain's side as he began to gain his feet, bringing his fist down to meet his face as it turned to look at him. He wasted no time giving him two swift kicks to the side following for good measure.

Desperately trying to catch his breath, he hobbled to where Mason obliviously continued his assault on Snotlout. With him distracted, it was easy to knock him off his cousin with a kick that was aimed at his ribcage, but instead hit his gut. It proved to be just as effective, luckily, as the air was knocked out of him with a loud, "oof!"

Hiccup began to advance when Mason leapt up, coughing. Noticing the bloody states his friends were in he immediately backed up, holding his hands up in surrender. Hiccup watched him cautiously as he retreated to where Coop was trying to lift Cain from the ground. Seeing them knocked down a peg filled Hiccup with a sense of pride he knew he shouldn't have. He had just heavily beaten three men and enjoyed it. He had little time to reflect, however, and moved back to heave Snotlout up.

Both men staggered back to the car on drunken feet, and Hiccup realised as he looked at the keys he clutched in his hands that he hadn't quite finished with the men yet. Getting into the car and backing it out of his parking spot, he rolled down the window, "I'll need my cousins keys and my phone back," he demanded, his voice raw but surprisingly strong as he began to pull forward. He waited for a moment as they stared blankly at him before sighing and putting the car in park before he reached into the back seat and grabbed his metal ice scraper. He had only set on foot outside the car before both items were tossed at him, the keys hitting his shoulder and bouncing off while he fumbled with his aching hands to catch the phone. Retrieving the keys from the ground he mock saluted them, getting back in the car and pulling out of the lot, narrowly avoiding their car still stretched out across both lanes of the egress of the lot.

0~~~~~~~~~~0

Hiccup was impressed with his ability to drive competently in the beaten state he was in as he drove Snotlout home. He still had to help him inside and clean off his face, if his father saw his face covered in blood like this there would be seven different kinds of hell to pay for both of them. Hiccup them searched through the refrigerator for ice packs or peas, instead settling for a bag of assorted frozen vegetables, although Snotlout continued to whine, "they're supposed to be PEAS," Hiccup would have none of it, and would either flick Snotlout's swollen nose or tell him to "SHUT UP, asshole!" every time he began to complain. He swiped two bottles of water from the fridge and leaving one and Snotlout's bedside table next to his keys, before leaving shortly after shoving Snotlout into his bed.

He was a quarter mile away from his house when the fatigue finally hit him. Forgetting completely about going back to work, he collapsed on the couch as soon as he got home. Unsure of what time it was when he had arrived, he had no clue how long he had been out when he reawoke. The sun was beginning to set and Toothless was scratching at the screen door, howling to be let back inside. His head swimming, Hiccup stumbled to the door and let his friend inside, ignoring the pointed look the furry animal was giving him as he stumbled up the stairs to shower.

He stayed in the shower long after the hot water had run out, only stepping out when he became too tired to continue to shiver. He had almost finished toweling off when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his reflection startling him.

The skin of his torso and stomach had already begun to bloom blue and purple. An uneven gash opened up the skin between his eyes, the blood thankfully already beginning to clot. The thin cut lining his cheekbone, however, was starting to weep with blood again and he gathered a fistful of toilet paper to press against it. His face had a similar His eye was just beginning to swell, and he would have to ice it more to prevent swelling. Tomorrow would be significantly worse than it had to be if his face was painted black and blue. None of his customers would like that, he had no doubt, and Gobber would certainly like it even less.

Before that afternoon, Hiccup had never been in an actual fight outside the few times he had tried to hit his playground bullies back. Those fights hadn't ended well for him, either. Something was different about this fight, however. He had beaten three grown men and he had liked how it felt. That genuinely scared him. The power his anger had given him was addictive, and that scared him even more.

Moving back downstairs he retreated back to the couch and turned on the news although he knew he wouldn't really watch it. His phone blinked at his from the seat next to him and he turned on the screen, guilt gnawing the pit of his stomach when he noticed that he had three new calls and two voicemails from Gobber.

He had just begun to listen to the first voicemail when the headlights of a car pulling into his driveway reflected across the walls of the room. Hiccup paled, knowing it could only be Gobber. He jumped to a stand way faster than he should have, a headrush hitting him like a brick and his knee buckled, causing him to slam into the coffee table. He didn't want Gobber to see him like this, but there wasn't much he could do to keep him out. Gobber had a spare key so he couldn't just lock him out and pretend to be asleep, and even if he somehow convinced Gobber to leave it would take him days or weeks to heal up completely-Hiccup had no idea how long it would take him to heal from a beating this bad, to be truthful-so his mentor would find out eventually, and the longer he kept it a secret the more upset Gobber would be.

Hiccup lowered himself back down to the couch and braced himself as Gobber tested the lock and, finding it open, entered the house. He winced at Gobber's silence upon seeing his marred face. Saying nothing was almost worse than him yelling.

"What happened to ya, laddie?" he asked, still standing in the open doorway. Hiccup sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His scalp still ached from his hair being pulled.

"Don't let him out," Hiccup called when Toothless scurried forward to escape between Gobber's legs. He gently pushed him back with his boot and turned to close the door. Instead of joining him on the couch like Hiccup expected, he moved into the kitchen. Hiccup could hear the quiet roar of the freezer as Gobber rummaged around for a moment before entering the living room and handing Hiccup a bag of frozen peas.

"Now tell me what happened, Hiccup."

Maybe Hiccup had had people to turn to after his father's death but had refused to accept any help. Maybe be had just preferred to be alone and angry. Maybe his pain and anger was self-inflicted and certainly destructive, but he was still hurting. He didn't care if his own actions were hurting him more than he cared to think about.