Fishbone [ hiccstrid oneshot ]

Part I

Hi everyone!! Finally publishing one of my Hiccstrid drafts, and I'm super excited. This is about a depressed Hiccup, takes place around HTTYD 1. Trigger warnings, self-harm, suicide mentions, thoughts, attempts, eating disorders. Hiccstrid will occur further into the story, not right away.  Well, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own How To Train Your Dragon or Race to the Edge or any of the characters except Eydis and Bjarte. Obviously.

**AGAIN, THIS IS NOT AN OFFICIAL FANFIC STORY. ITS JUST AN EXTENDED, 3-PART DRABBLE**

-Erin

***

7 years old

Hiccup sat next to a bush in his favorite spot on Berk. Right on the edge of the tree line, close enough to hear the crickets chirp, but far enough to get away from the dreaded Uncle Spitelout. This particular bush had a magnificent view of the sunsets, a perfect angle to see the pink and orange colors wash over the darkening clouds. The yellow orb called the sun sat just above the horizon, glaring at Berk and sending its last, lazy beams of light over the island.

Spitelout's words rang a constant clatter in Hiccup's head, shaking him to his core. This made him not want to talk to talk to anyone. He wanted to sit in his spot, and listen to birds sing their last tunes of the day without having to do with any fellow vikings.

That wish wasn't granted, though. A large mass was making its way up the small hill to Hiccup's bush. Hiccup scooted over to face the other direction, resting his chin on his bony knees.

"Hiccup, what're ye doin' up here?" his father, Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk. "Come back te the house."

"I don't want to," Hiccup responded, not looking at Stoick.

"C'mon, boy, don't make me say it 'gain." Stoick snapped. He often used this tone with his son, a stern one with layers of discipline in it.

"You don't have to keep coming to get me, Dad. I know I'm just a burden to you," Hiccup sighed, painting in the mud with his finger.

Stoick was shocked. Where had his boy heard that? There had been times where he'd thought that, but he'd never dare say it aloud. "Where on earth did ye hear that?"

Hiccup sighed again. "Uncle Spitelout said I was."

"C'mon, son." The chief of Berk hoisted the seven year-old up, and they started walking back to the house. "Don't listen teh Spitelout, now, ye hear me?"

10 years old

Hiccup had been working at the forge for about a year, by that time. Stoick slapped him next to Gobber at the smithy to get him to bulk up. The chief noticed that his son's peers were beginning to show signs of strength and developing muscles at a young age, and he was worried Hiccup would be stuck at a tiny size forever.

At ten and nine, the children Hiccup's age became more independent, walking around the village more, helping out with dragon raids. That also left room for them to pick on Hiccup for his size. Gobber, the blacksmith, also made quick comments about his skinniness, but they were meant to be humorous. The man didn't know how much those comments actually effected him.

12 years old

Toothpick. Useless. Weak. Stupid. Tiny. Fishbone.