Hiccup showed up at our doorstep at exactly eleven o'clock every single time and rang the bell. At this point, I was starting to believe he stood in front of it earlier, just waiting for the second hand to hit twelve to maintain his model student image.

We were sticking to our plan pretty well. I had already caught up on genetics, stochastics, and the War of Independence, as well as the present tense in Spanish and had memorized some vocabulary. The fact that I'd managed all that in just three weeks amazed me. Apparently, I could understand things if I actually sat down and put in the effort.

But I hadn't made it easy for Hiccup, which I almost felt bad about. Sometimes I had moments where I'd throw my notebook against the wall out of sheer frustration and sulk in my chair like a stubborn little girl. Of course, I'd ignore him then. Instead of yelling at me or picking up the stuff I tossed, he just ignored me right back until my mood passed. He never held anything against me, even though I could clearly tell he was sometimes annoyed and probably wished he was at home.

I hadn't told him yet, but I was genuinely grateful that he came over three times a week to go through all this material with me. At least it wasn't always tense, most of the time we laughed, especially when I got a vocabulary word hilariously wrong, or we simply felt comfortable around each other. He was good company, a refreshing change from the constant loneliness before. In a way, I was glad Mr. North hadn't given us a chance to protest, that way I got to make a friend.

"Did you finish the worksheet?" he asked me then.

I'd been so lost in thought that I'd forgotten what I was even doing. My eyes focused again on the half-labeled drawing of a neuron in front of me. "Uh, nope."

"Where were you with your head?"

I looked over at him. He had his head propped on his hand and was smiling slightly at me. Of course, his worksheet was already completely filled out. It was the one Mrs. Coleman had handed out in class while we were both in the principal's office. Jack had kindly grabbed one for each of us so we could do it over the summer break. That's just how Mrs. Coleman was, giving homework during the holidays because "You'll surely find five minutes to do this in eight weeks!"

Hiccup was still waiting for an answer, so I let the words roll off my tongue. "Thank you for deciding to help me, even with how weird the situation was at the beginning. I wouldn't have even known where to start without you."

His smile widened. "You're welcome. I gotta say, I enjoy sitting here with you and watching you spiral into despair. It's a lot of fun."

I rolled my eyes, which made him laugh. He could be the most kind-hearted person of all time, and then say things like that. He turned back to his worksheet, even though it was already finished.

"What does Stacy think about all this?" I asked casually while labeling the myelin sheath. "You being at another girl's house three times a week. Alone. During summer break, when you could be doing stuff with her instead."

He grinned at me sideways. "She thinks she talked me out of it. Even though I told her nothing would change my mind." He shrugged. "She's in the Caribbean with her parents for the whole eight weeks anyway."

"Wait," I interrupted, turning to face him. He just looked at me puzzled. "Your girlfriend is out of the country for the entire summer, so you don't see her for eight weeks, and she's also ignoring your messages?"

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do. You message me practically every day and tell me stuff from your life."

His expression dimmed a little. "You could've said it bothered you."

I waved a hand. "That's not what I meant. I told you my inbox is always open, and I meant it. It's just that I've noticed you're telling me things you'd usually tell your girlfriend. At least at first. I never said anything because if you want to talk, go ahead, it's your choice. But don't you think it's pretty wrong of her to ignore you? Especially when she's away for eight weeks?"

He fiddled with his pen. "Of course I know it's not right. But she's been like this from the start. I'm used to it, so it doesn't really bother me."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "That's a pretty big red flag, Hiccup. And we don't want to start talking about her jealousy."

"How do you know about that?" he asked clearly confused, as if it wasn't the most well-known thing in our grade, considering how indiscreet Stacy was about it.

"I had P.E. with her in tenth grade," I explained. "First class after you two got together, she gave us a speech in the locker room about not to get too close to you because you're hers now and shouldn't be tempted. And if we did, she'd make us pay."

His eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

I shook my head. "Nope, that really happened. Stacy went to every group of girls in our year and said the same thing."

He obviously really had no idea about it, because his face showed pure shock with a dash of disbelief. What a great relationship when you don't even really know your partner.

"And here I thought the situation with Elsa was just a one time thing," he said then.

"What situation with Elsa?" I asked, confused.

He sighed. "Stacy once told me to stop spending so much time with Elsa because she didn't want her making a move on me."

Now I was the one staring in disbelief. "Elsa Arens? Your best friend's girlfriend for ... how long? A year and a half now? Which is longer than you two have been together. She thinks this Elsa will make a move on you?" He nodded. "That's insane, Hiccup."

"I know."

"Every person with eyes can see she only thinks about Jack," I said, and he nodded again. "No offense, but Stacy is mentally unwell. That level of jealousy is definitely not normal. She's looking for enemies where there are none."

He didn't answer right away, just stared at the table, deep in thought. I let him be, accepting the reality of having a crazy girlfriend wasn't exactly easy. I asked myself how he hadn't noticed, she had made it very obvious. He was so smart and yet so dumb. Or he was just thinking with his dick around her.

He looked up. "She's not always like that, you know, she can be really sweet and kind and loving."

He didn't really just say that. I had to be imagining things. Was he really defending her right now? The same girl who threatened other girls to stay away from him or she would hurt them?

I laughed. "Are you serious?" Judging by his expression, he was. "Hiccup, what the ... Did you listen to what she did? That's not normal! That's not trust, that's not affection. That's control! Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I do," he replied sharply. "But that doesn't define her. That is not all about her personality. I know her better than any of you, so I don't think you really get a say. I don't want to discuss this anymore, that's not why I'm here and it's none of your business."

That statement stung a little. I raised my hands defensively. "Alright, your life, your choice."

I just wanted to show you what a bitch she actually is. That she's not good for you in the long run. But sure, if you want to destroy yourself.

So we dropped the topic, finished our assignments in silence, and said goodbye afterward.

❁

The following sessions carried a strange tension with them, as if the important unspoken things were always hanging between us, but neither of us wanted to say them out loud and risk starting another argument. On the Sunday before school started, I knew the moment I opened the door that he was in a really bad mood. No smile, no "Hey." He just walked in with his grim expression, placed his shoes next to mine, and went straight to the dining room. The fact that I was left standing at the door, stunned, didn't seem to matter to him.

"Please," I murmured into the empty hallway. "Make yourself right at home."

He unpacked his things passive-aggressively, he didn't slam them down, but he didn't place them gently either, something in between. I decided not to mention his mood. He had often shown that if he wanted to talk to me, he'd make the first move. So I sat down next to him and opened my binder to the biology notes, since we wanted to review the neuron topic again today because Mrs. Coleman would, with one hundred percent certainty, ask about it in the first lesson. Her favorite tactic to make us students feel inadequate.

He took out his worksheet and turned to me. His expression was still the grimmest I had ever seen on him. Not even when I had threwn my stuff at the wall had he looked like that. It honestly scared me a little. I knew he wasn't a violent person, but what the hell had made him so mad?

"What are the tree-like structures on the nucleus called?" Even his voice was different,  more ... monotone? Subtly aggressive? I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but all the gentleness was gone.

His mood threw me off a bit, because I actually knew the answer, but it wouldn't come to me. "Uh, those were ... were those the synaptic knobs?"

He slapped the folder onto his legs, making me flinch. "Seriously, the synaptic knobs? Are you kidding me? Doesn't it make more sense for them to be at the end of the neuron?"

That's it. Up to this point, I had accepted that even he could have a bad day, but now he was taking it out on me, and that was just too much.

"Okay, I get it," I said, raising my voice as well. "You're in a bad mood, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on me because I have nothing to do with it. So don't you dare yell at me because I confused the dendrites with those damn synaptic knobs!"

For a moment we just glared at each other, and I really thought he was going to yell back, but then he sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. That threw me off so much that my anger instantly dissolved.

Please don't start crying. I can't deal with crying people, I thought, but then he ran a hand through his hair and I could see he wasn't on the verge of a breakdown.

"You're right," he said in his usual, calm voice. "I'm sorry."

I felt my muscles relax and I leaned back again. "Would you at least tell me why you're in such a bad mood?"

He rubbed his face again before resting his head on his fist. "Stacy and I broke up yesterday."

Wait, what?

I couldn't stop it, it was like an avalanche rolling downhill: I started laughing. He just looked at me stunned as if I had lost my mind, because obviously that wasn't a normal reaction when someone told you they had broken up with their partner. But this was just too ironic after our conversation last week.

"You're telling me," I said as my laughter faded, "that you're in a bad mood because you broke up with your toxic girlfriend?"

His eyes narrowed angrily. "We've already talked about this."

I waved dismissively. "Yes, I know, she's not always like that, can be nice, blah blah blah. Nonsense, that's what that is, and at least now you've realized it."

"Well," he said, avoiding my gaze.

My laughter stopped. "What do you mean, well?"

He sighed. "It was mostly about her jealousy. She asked me what I'd been doing while she was gone, so I told her. She got mad and said she now couldn't know whether I'd been faithful or not." He rolled his eyes at that. "To her, it's already a betrayal if I enter another girl's house without her. We argued about it, and she ended it. I still think she has a kind side."

Naive, absolutely naive. But he seemed stuck in that thought, and arguing about it again wouldn't help, so I ignored that part.

"I don't want to say I told you so, but: I told you so."

He nodded. "Yeah, you did. Sorry about last time. It was stupid not to listen to you. Something really is wrong in her head."

"Oh, definitely," I said, and another laugh bubbled up, and this time, Hiccup joined in.

After that, he quizzed me on the rest of the neuron structure, which I aced, and we switched to Spanish vocabulary. That was the first time I noticed how beautiful the green of his irises was.

———

Did you see the break-up coming? Stacy is gone, so Hiccstrid all the way? We'll see 😌
And why does Astrid suddenly pay attention to his eyes? 👀