Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tuffnut hates it.

He really does. He hates it, how badly he wants to do things– he wants to write this report, he wants to start this presentation, he wants to succeed, but– but– but he can’t, and he has no idea why.

They’ve been in college for just over a month now, and Tuffnut has been seriously struggling. Not with turning up to lectures and sections and all that, that’s fine, but stuff that he has to choose to do– course readings, the online discussions he’s expected to participate in, shit like that, that doesn’t have a scheduled time in which it happens. He leaves things to the last minute, knowing he should do them, but at the same time, knowing he can’t.

It’s October 29th now, and he has three assignments due tomorrow. One audio–visual presentation, one report, and one essay.

Tuffnut sits at his desk with his head buried in his hands, his cheeks wet. He’s failing at this. He’s failing, and he knows he’s failing, and he doesn’t know how to make himself not fail, and– and it’s so scary, knowing he’ll have to go back to Berk, live with his parents again, leave all his friends in Tacoma. This is his chance at a future, and– and he’s blowing it. He lets out a small sob, pulling his hair, and a key turns in the dorm lock.

Tuffnut sits straight up, wiping at his eyes and smoothing his hair down, swallowing. Hiccup enters, staring at something on his phone. He doesn’t look up when he comes in, keeping his hand on the door and closing it as he shrugs his satchel off. He pulls his mask off, and says calmly, “Green L, green I, blank, yellow L, yellow E.”

“What?” Tuffnut asks, confused, and Hiccup, still not looking up at him, continues, “Wordle. There’s no A.”

“I– I don’t know,” says Tuffnut. He tries to think of a word, or a joke, or– or something, but nothing comes to mind. His brain hurts too much. He feels too overwhelmed. He feels like crying.

Hiccup hums, walking over to his bed and sitting down on the edge. “L… li… liel… l– oh! Libel.” He grins and finally looks up at Tuffnut, and his smile immediately fades. “Hey, are– are you okay?”

Tuffnut blinks, and realises he’s still crying. “Oh, uh– uh, no, nothing, it’s fine, it’s– I’m fine. Yeah, I’m okay, I just, I just– it’s just…” He trails off, and Hiccup is still looking at him with concern all over his face, and Tuffnut starts sobbing.

“Oh, shit,” Hiccup says, stumbling to his feet and towards Tuffnut’s desk, crouching slightly and pulling him into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. What’s– what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“I just–” Tuffnut cries, burying his face in Hiccup’s neck, “I just don’t know what to do! I– I can’t do it. I can’t do this.”

“Okay,” Hiccup says. He sounds scared. “Are you… okay, hey, let’s go sit down on your bed, yeah? It’ll be more comfortable there. Come on.” He pulls Tuffnut up by his forearms, and Tuffnut stands to make it easier for him– he knows Hiccup can’t really carry him. They half–walk, half–shuffle towards the bed, and once they’re there, Hiccup sits him down and draws him back into his arms. Tuffnut keeps crying, hard. Hiccup just keeps a hand on his back, moving it in circles. The motion is repetitive, soothing, and after about ten minutes, Tuffnut gasps, sniffles, and wipes his eyes, having cried himself out.

Hiccup leans away from him, but his hand stays. “Are you feeling a bit better now?” he asks gently, and Tuffnut shrugs. “I, um– I don’t know. I’m… I… I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Hiccup says. “That’s fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

Tuffnut stares at him for a moment. Hiccup’s eyes are wide, welcoming. He’s– he’s always like that. Even though he’s usually the one who’s in some state of emotional turmoil, he’s always… ready. He’s always kind.

So Tuffnut says, his voice shaking, “I can’t do college. I can’t do assignments. I can’t– I can’t do this, Hiccup, I’m– I’m so bad at it.”

Hiccup frowns. “Of course you can do assignments. I used to proofread your essays in junior year. You’re good at it.”

“I’m not,” Tuffnut insists, shaking his head. “Hiccup, I have three assignments due tomorrow, and I haven’t started any of them. I’m not good at this. I’m not good at any of this. I’m just– I’m just a failure.”

Hiccup stares silently at him, his face unreadable. Tuffnut knows this means he agrees, and he buries his face in his hands again.

“Hey,” Hiccup says sharply, pulling his hands away from his face. “Hey, no. That’s wrong, okay? You’re not– a failure. You’re struggling. That’s okay.”

“But this isn’t something I’m… allowed to struggle at,” Tuffnut groans, and Hiccup snorts. “Then what is?”

Tuffnut doesn’t answer for a minute. He leans back, flopping onto his bed. Hiccup lies down next to him, albeit more carefully. “I don’t know,” Tuffnut says eventually. “I just– I just feel really stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Hiccup says. “I know you. I’ve known you for most of our lives. I know you’re not stupid. I wish you could believe that about yourself.”

They’re both silent, and then Hiccup continues, “Besides, intelligence doesn’t make a person valuable. Otherwise, we wouldn’t keep Snotlout around.”

Tuffnut snorts, laughs loudly and wheezes when he chokes on it. “So true, H.” Hiccup grins at him, and then a sort of fearful look comes over his face. “I– I don’t mean that, by the way, Snotlout’s not stupid. I was joking.”

“I know.”

Minutes pass. Five, ten, fifteen. The silence is comfortable. They spend most of their time like this, really, so they’re both used to it.

Hiccup sits up. “Now, your assignments. I know it’s easier not to think about them, but it’s 11am right now, and they’re due when? 11:59 tomorrow night?” When Tuffnut nods, he continues, “Okay. I handed my assignments in early, so I have a free weekend and I’m going to help you with this. What’s easiest?”

Tuffnut sighs. “I don’t know– none of them? They’re all– I– no, I guess they’re easy. The essay is easiest. I just… I can’t start.”

“Well, I’m helping!” Hiccup says enthusiastically, and his determination is almost infectious. Tuffnut chuckles and lets Hiccup pull him back over to his desk, and Hiccup grabs his reading glasses. “Okay, what’s the question?”

They work for two hours, and end with 532 words of the 700–word goal. Hiccup beams at him. “Awesome. You’re nearly done!”

“Yeah, this,” Tuffnut sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I still have the report and the presentation. God, the presentation–”

“Tuffnut,” Hiccup interrupts, a small frown on his face. “I… I’m sorry if this oversteps, but… do you like studying chemistry? Like, does it make you happy?”

“It’s… I like chemistry,” Tuffnut says, confused. “I like the– yeah, I like it.” His voice is uncertain, because… does he? Sure, he likes explosions, and knowing how things work, and everything that led Ruff to study the same thing, but… but does he like studying chemistry?

“Have you thought about switching majors?”

Tuffnut laughs in slight disbelief. “Uh, no? I’m a chemistry major. I– I’m studying chemistry, that’s what I want.”

Hiccup eyes him suspiciously. “… Is it what you want? Or is it what your parents wanted, and you followed along with because Ruff’s doing it too?”

Tuffnut feels something inside him deflate. “I… oh. Um, I guess– oh.”

“Switch,” Hiccup says gently. “Seriously, Tuff, switch. If you don’t like this, then do something else, and if you don’t like any of it, that’s okay. You don’t have to go back home, I’ll– we’ll sort something out, I’ll help you pay for a studio or something. Yeah?”

“I could do theatre,” he says in a small voice, and Hiccup smiles warmly. “Definitely.”

They talk a bit more, about studying, about support, about degrees– and eventually, Tuffnut feels, for the first time in a long time, that he might be okay in the end.