Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Henry was a bad guy. Not the hot type, even though girls were going crazy over him, but a literal sociopath who wasn’t afraid of hurting others beyond repair. Not afraid to bully, beat up or try to kill the kids who didn’t even do anything to him. And he knew it very well. Yet he couldn’t help himself but love to cause pain. To ease the pain, he himself had to endure at home, the pain that his father inflicted on him. And if everyone else was now his punching bag? So, what, it’s not like he ever cared about them. 

Not even his friends. He wasn’t even bothered to show any fake love to them, he just spent time together with them because they were at least better than the other miserable excuses for people. They got his back even if he didn’t do anything for them in return. Maybe that’s why he liked to keep them. That friendship cost him no real effort and he would still be praised and admired by them. But soon, against his will, he started to get closer with them and maybe he found out that his problems at home were relatable to the others…

July 2nd

It was the same as ever. Cleaning every spot in the house and in the stable, going to check on the sheep behind the house, thinking about what to prepare for dinner for his father. Henry felt the weight of it, and it was making him fucking depressed. He was probably going to spend the whole summer break like this. Like a slave. And he would-

“Henry, do you fucking hear me?!” He heard a voice that pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned around to see his friends approaching. However, it was only Reginald and Patrick. He raised his eyebrow, looking around as if expecting Victor to suddenly spawn as well. He really didn’t like these fuckers. Reg was gross, all the time only eating. On the other hand, he owned a car that his momma bought him for sixteenth birthday.

But Patrick? There was nothing likable about that guy. He was always so mysterious and honestly unbelievably insane. And everyone was quite sure he was a fag. What could Henry like about him? For some reason though, he let him hang out with them still.

“Chill out, Belch. Where’s Victor?” 

“Out of town for the whole summer break.” Reginald answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if he wasn’t disappointed because of this. 

Henry just rolled his eyes, realizing that he was stuck only with these two now. 

“We thought we would help you out with your stuff or whatever. To make you go party with us,” Patrick said, his voice as monotone and carefree as ever. Henry hated it about him, you really could never tell what this dude was thinking and feeling. If he was feeling anything at all, that is.

“Where’s it this time, Hockstetter? Gay bar?” Henry said mockingly and crossed his arms on his chest. He was always trying to provoke Patrick to get at least some reaction out of him.

“Very funny you mentioned that. However, fuck you.”

“Woah, guys, stop. We were thinking just going to Wendy’s for a few drinks,” Belch said to stop them from arguing any further. 

It honestly made Henry laugh. “You have money for that? And don’t tell me that anyone would let you buy alcohol, you both look 10 at max.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and tapped on Reginald’s shoulder, telling him that this was pointless, and they should just go. That made Henry a bit mad though, he wanted them to beg him to come with them and now they weren’t even trying.

“Fine. I’m going with you,” Henry then said finally with an annoyed scoff.

***

They were already quite drunk. Drunk enough to not care about anything. Henry felt his head slightly spinning, but he mostly was feeling rage. He wanted to yell at someone, to hit someone, break something. He didn’t really have a reason for it other than the alcohol in blood. Even if there wasn't even that much of it. And he always did get even more aggressive when he was under the spell of substances. All he needed was a little push. And he definitely didn’t have to wait long for it.

Belch was talking to some chicks at the other side of the bar. The blonde was about to do the same, when he noticed Patrick downing a bottle of vodka. He rolled his eyes and stood up to walk over to his friend and make sure he didn’t black out from all that drinking. But then he froze. An older guy approached the black-haired boy and grabbed him by the hips, making him spill the vodka all over his clothes.

Henry frowned. He didn’t like this in the slightest. And this time, it wasn’t just because that guy was an obvious fag. But the man was all over Henry’s friend. Henry’s friend. For some reason, he started to feel as if he was a kid, and some other kid was stealing his toy. His toy. He might’ve felt nothing for his friend and hated him all he wanted, but Patrick was still his. And he wasn’t going to let this stranger take away something he owned.

“Hey, you motherfucker! Get your filthy hands off of him!” Henry yelled at the dude, who nervously backed off, probably thinking that Henry was an angry boyfriend.

Patrick was very confused and for once, it was actually very visible. Maybe his brain was just completely fucked up by the alcohol. He stumbled towards Henry who caught him and then gave the man watching them a hateful look. He wanted to beat the shit out of that guy, but he decided against it as he wanted to be good for once and help his friend get some fresh air.

When they walked outside of the bar, Henry felt his stomach get lighter once the air of the night hit his lungs. He felt Patrick trying to cuddle up to him and that’s when he let go of him and let him fall on the ground. The younger boy grunted and it was obvious how he was even more confused by this but didn’t ask anything because he had to get on his hands and knees to throw up.

The blonde was watching him, maybe even examining him, but then he realized that it was really gay to do so and stopped immediately. 

“Do you normally let faggots touch you like that?” he then asked with a disgusted scoff. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Patrick hadn’t pulled back and just let the man do whatever he wanted. He was starting to think that maybe the black-haired boy was a bit more submissive than he first anticipated. Or, more than anyone would think.

“I froze. He reminded me of my dad...” Patrick mumbled, his words really hard to understand, and threw up again right after.

Henry looked away, not wanting to watch the disgusting show. He was feeling a bit more sober now honestly, maybe it was the air that was helping him, or maybe he didn’t have that much alcohol in the first place. He folded his arms on his chest as he thought about what the boy said. “You fuck your dad?” he then asked with a raised eyebrow because that was the first question that he thought about. And he was usually impulsive.

The younger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked over his shoulder, giving Henry a death stare. “You think I ask for it?” 

Bowers thought about it for a while. That was weird. Was his friend saying he was being abused at home? Was he trying to make Henry pity him? Was he trying to say that he had it worse? He frowned but decided against saying anything. He was too confused by all this to actually react properly. It didn’t make any sense. Patrick couldn’t be abused. Spineless psychopaths don’t get abused. And what’s so great about him that anyone would want to abuse him sexually?

When he saw that his friend was on the verge of passing out, he rolled his eyes and decided to be the good guy once again and take him home. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to find out more at the moment, but maybe if he stuck around long enough, he would finally see the truth. So maybe he should make his summer break more interesting and make it his mission to find out about every secret Patrick had…

Chapter Text

Henry woke up feeling quite good despite drinking yesterday. However, he couldn't remember how he ended up here. Because as he looked around, he noticed that this was indeed not his room. He had to somehow fall asleep while he was helping Patrick to bed. Speaking of him...

Henry looked at the other side of his body and immediately panicked when he noticed Patrick clinging to him as if he was his mama. If anybody saw them right now, they would think that they're gay. And that was the last thing he wanted. So, he pushed Patrick away, almost making him fall from the comfortable bed. 

Patrick groaned because this motion woke him up. And he was definitely in a much worse state than Henry was, but he wasn’t all that bothered by it. As always.

"What happened yesterday? Did we drink that much...?" the black-haired boy asked, his voice hoarse and tired. 

Henry smirked slightly, but quickly forced himself to stop to not be suspicious. He could play with his friend, but he felt like he would get caught very quickly. He wasn't really that good at manipulating and stuff, at least not as good as Patrick was. 

"You did. You never know when to stop, do you?" he answered and after he saw how the younger boy rolled his eyes and looked away, the next words just fell out of his mouth without even wanting to. "You also surely had a great time. Like how you almost fucked that old dude."

"What?" was all Patrick said, immediately giving Henry a suspicious look with a raised eyebrow. The older boy just smiled innocently.

"Doesn't matter. Just that you're a damn fag."

"Oh yeah? So what? Maybe I like to take it like a bitch, what's that information gonna do for you, Bowers?" Patrick said with a scoff and Henry could almost see the irritation in his eyes. It was always refreshing to see any kind of emotion in the boy. 

"You're disgusting, Hockstetter," the blonde said, meaning his words because he really hated to imagine what exactly was behind what his friend said. He imagined some random man bending Patrick over a table and fucking him hard until he screamed... Henry's eyes widened at the thought because it was so arousing but it sure as hell would make him gay. 

"Why are you a bottom?" he then asked, rather quickly before the other could realize how much the previous thought excited him. 

"Why not? I don't have to put any effort into that, I get all the pleasure I'd want... Does it bother you?" Patrick smirked, looking right into Henry's eyes as if knowing exactly how he felt. As if he had him read. And he hated it. 

"Fuck you."

"Oh, come on, Bowers. You're so bothered by it because you want me to dominate you, hm?" 

"Shut the fuck up!" Henry growled and automatically raised his hand as if he was going to hit. Patrick flinched and immediately put his arms in front of his face, preparing for the hit. But Henry stopped. He had never seen this reaction from his friend, and it confused him. Was the boy scared of being beaten? Or was he playing along for some reason?

It reminded Henry of himself. Of how he always hid his face from his father when he was getting beaten with a belt. But it was weird to imagine someone doing that to Patrick. Everybody was scared of Patrick. Nobody wanted to be close to him. But now he was thinking that tough guy Patrick maybe wasn’t as unbreakable as everyone said…

“I’ll go find ibuprofen. Ya want some too?” The younger boy asked and looked at Henry with that usual vacancy. Henry didn’t even notice when the conversation got back to normal, but he was sure glad it did. This was getting a bit too frustrating and sentimental. Too gay. 

“Nah, I didn’t drink like crazy yesterday.” At this, Patrick only rolled his eyes and left the room.

That was a perfect opportunity for Henry. And he wanted to take advantage of that. He was in his friend’s room. So, he could look around and maybe find some interesting stuff…

The first thing that caught his attention were drawings above the table and even on the wall behind the bed. He didn’t notice them before because they were behind his back, and he wasn’t really exploring the room in detail before. But now that he did look at it, he could clearly see a piece of Patrick’s mind.

Pencil drawings, very realistic and detailed ones, of brutally murdered girls, sexual intercourses and one or two drawings of Patrick himself but with smudged face. Something about this was wrong, but at the same time, it was actually really impressive. Just how realistic the sketches were, how it had something in them even if they were really disturbing. Henry liked it. He never knew his friend was a serious artist, he sometimes saw him with a pencil and a sketchbook at school, but he always only found it cringe and funny. But to look at this all, it wasn’t funny. He was just intrigued.

In some ways, Patrick was just fascinating.

He kind of hoped to find himself among the drawings, but unfortunately, he didn’t. Or maybe fortunately. He wasn’t sure how he would react if he saw a drawing of him dead or naked on his friend’s wall.

He heard some voices coming from the kitchen, so he was quite sure that he had more time because Patrick’s mother always liked to talk. Henry knew her – mostly because she was always trying to flirt with his father, so he and Patrick agreed never to talk about this – but he was usually trying to dodge her to not be included in the painful long conversation about nothing. She was very kind and sweet, but that wasn’t enough for him to like her. She wasn’t like Victor’s mom. The one that was there to help him and play the role of the mother figure that was missing in his life. He would never admit it, but he was very grateful to have someone like that.

He came closer to the desk in Patrick’s room and for a moment just looked around. He was sure that there were more things that would tell him more about his friend. Like books on the shelf. Animal Farm, Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye… Henry would never read any of those – in fact, he wouldn’t read anything, his father told him that reading was gay – but just based on the names, he thought that it was some philosophical shit. Boring.

What wasn’t as boring though, was a diary. He thought it was very cliché to have a diary, but it was surely an advantage for him. He could find out some stuff about Patrick and if it was useful, he could use it for extortion. Although… Patrick was mildly insane, he probably wouldn’t care.

4.3. - Fuck life, God is gay.

First and only page with something written on it. Henry was not even surprised. He could imagine that his friend thought that it was cliché too and didn’t want to continue that. It’s the stuff that one tries but then immediately leaves it. So this little book probably just collected dust. And the wording wasn’t weird for Patrick either. He often told Christians that god is actually gay. He even told the priest when his mother forced him to go to the church.

He heard Patrick coming back upstairs, so he quickly put the diary back in its place and went to sit on the bed to look like he had just got up. For some reason, he had a feeling that his friend would know exactly what he was doing, but he would rather not be caught. It didn’t matter that much, but he had to be at least a little careful with his investigation.

“Feeling better?” he asked, maybe too quickly because Patrick didn’t even close the door when he spoke. He didn’t actually care how the other boy felt, but he felt like it would be better to ask. Maybe if he tried more, Patrick would trust him enough to just say all the stuff himself.

“Sure,” the black-haired boy scoffed and let himself fall on the bed with a grunt. While he lay on his stomach, Henry couldn’t help but look at his perfectly shaped ass. It actually wasn’t gay. He was examining, trying to find out why Patrick was so wanted. It wasn’t gay. It wasn’t.

He quickly looked away again, feeling like it was gay after all. He stood up and thought about what to say as an excuse to leave. But then he shrugged. He didn’t need an excuse. Who was he to ask for permission to do stuff he wanted?

“You better be ready to hang out at night again,” he said, expecting an answer, but all he got was some quiet mumble. He wasn’t even sure if it was an agreement or not, but he wasn’t going to ask more.

He took a last glance at Patrick’s longer hair. It looked like it would be really soft to touch. Really nice to pull at while fucking him from behind… His eyes widened and he shook his head to get rid of those unwelcomed thoughts. He felt disgusting for even thinking this. He practically ran out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. He didn’t even answer the greeting Patrick’s mother gave him, he just shut the front door behind him and started walking away at a speed that could already be considered running. This was a problem. Somehow, Patrick was messing with his mind. This had to be stopped.

Chapter Text

Henry ran home faster than usual, hoping that his father would be at work. Damn was he wrong. Just as he opened the door, he noticed the man standing right across from him, staring at him with coldness in his eyes. 

And before he could say anything, his father already started with his typical question: “Where have you been?”

“With my friend,” he answered simply. But he already knew that it wouldn’t be enough. It never was.

“At night? It better have been a girl,” his father growled at him in a threatening tone. A tone that always made him scared, unsure of himself. If anyone saw him like this, they would think he’s just a coward. But even though he dreamt about standing up to his father, he never really had the balls to do it. Maybe he deserved to be called a coward.

“O-of course, pops…” Henry stuttered, feeling like Denbrough for a moment. How could he be so damn scared? In moments like this, he hated himself. And maybe he wished he could be more like that black-haired careless psychopath.

“Go to your room. You’re grounded for the rest of the week. And go feed the fucking pigs,” the man said harshly and sent Henry to his room first. He usually did that, not wanting to see his son any longer.

But Henry could congratulate himself because this time he at least wasn’t beaten up. Broken like every other time when he did even the slightest thing wrong. He was sick of this. Sick of being scared to walk around the house, sick of this life. 

It went like this over and over again ever since his mother “left”. But he somehow knew what really happened. That it was all just a story everyone believed because Henry’s father was a cop. Nobody would see him as an abuser who killed his wife. It could’ve been an accident - and he believed it was, Oscar Bowers loved to abuse others, it didn’t make sense that he would purposely kill one of the people he could terrorize - but he still killed her. 

It had been a secret kept between them and a lawyer. And when Henry remembered who the lawyer was, suddenly everything made sense.

He quickly ran upstairs, not wanting to try his luck by standing there with his father. He locked himself in his room. That was something he wasn’t supposed to do, but lately got the privilege of it. He didn’t know why and honestly, he didn’t care. It wasn’t important as long as he had it.

He just went to bed, wanting to wait until his father left. He really didn’t want to meet him again today and risk provoking him somehow to result in violence. Because this time, it would surely come.

So he just sat on his bed before allowing himself to lie down and just think about everything…

He ended up falling asleep. It was quite quick, once he closed his eyes, he was already breathing calmly and even started dreaming. He didn’t usually dream, or at least didn’t remember any of it, but today he did. It was so real, so confusing... And dirty.

He knew that at that moment he saw himself in a bar and noticed his friend there with him. Or not really.

Patrick was being pushed around by a bunch of men - all of them looking like Henry’s father for some reason - against his will. He whined from time to time and Henry found that sound remarkably interesting and cute. It made him come closer, curious about what was happening and also a bit upset about how the men were treating the younger boy like a toy. 

It turned out that he was correct. They pulled at Patrick’s hair, undressed him and he was hundred percent sure he also saw some of them sliding their disgusting cocks inside the poor boy. 

Henry felt a sudden urge. Urge to push them all away, to save his friend and claim him as his own. Because he did belong to him. 

He frowned and a gun appeared in his hand just as he started thinking about it. He was furious. So just as he got the idea, he loaded the gun and immediately started shooting, watching how the dead bodies of all the filthy men dropped on the ground. He was the king here; he would fucking show them what they deserve for being fags and harassing his property. 

He enjoyed the feeling of being like a god, deciding on who will live and who will not. Was this the feeling Patrick got when he killed those poor animals?

As he thought about him, he looked in the direction where he saw the boy previously. He was surprised when he saw him there, sitting on the ground, completely naked. He had his legs crossed and looked oddly too feminine. He even had bigger tits. But the main thing Henry was excited about was that Patrick was all covered in blood. It was extremely hot, just seeing how the red liquid dropped from that delicious body. 

Henry’s first thought was to lick it and so he decided to just go for it. He lowered himself so that he was half kneeling, close enough to the boy who looked smaller than usual. Maybe a bit too weak and submissive. Exactly what Bowers liked to see. Maybe there really was something about this version of his friend.

The older boy just leaned closer and licked all the way from Patrick’s neck to his breasts, savoring the taste of blood on his tongue. It was warm, sweet… He felt like he could cum just from this feeling. 

“Open your legs,” Henry ordered, looking down at where his friend’s legs were crossed. He just wanted to find out if the feminine body was fully feminine… He got a bit angry when his order was unheard. He wanted to force the legs open, when he noticed how Patrick leaned closer to him to whisper something into his ear. “You’re gay, Henry.”

—

His eyes shot wide open. He was already almost awake so that dream wouldn’t last much longer anyway, but this was the worst thing that could’ve happened. He immediately sat up and looked around as if wanting to reassure himself that nobody was watching. That nobody would read his mind and think that he was a fag.

When he calmed down slightly, he looked down between his legs, terrified when he saw the erection. He was looking for a way to rationalize this for himself, but the only thing he got was that it happened only because he imagined Patrick as a girl. But it was still him you imagined. He groaned and shook his head to get rid of that stupid voice in his head. The voice that was all too right… No. He couldn’t just accept it.

He got up from the bed as if trying to avoid falling asleep and triggering a dream like that again. Maybe he should just not sleep at all…

Chapter Text

It was already deep at night when Henry decided to sneak out of the house. He wasn’t sure when he decided to do something like that, especially when he knew very well that his father would kill him if he found out about this, but he just was really bored and couldn’t stop thinking about his friend.

So after swearing a bit and falling on the ground with a low grunt, he quickly, but carefully, started running towards Patrick’s house. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Why he had given himself that challenge to begin with, but it was funny on the other hand. At least the summer break was not all boring again as it was the years before. Besides, even if he would never in his life admit it, he enjoyed having someone to talk to all the time when Vic was not available. He didn’t feel lonely as he used to. 

He was soon throwing small pebbles at Patrick’s window, trying to wake him up. He was about to give up when the window finally opened, and the black-haired boy looked out of it with a confused look on his face. 

“Hey, fag. Wanna hang out?” Henry called, quietly to not wake anyone else up, but also loud enough for the other boy to hear it.

“No,” Patrick answered and disappeared. The blonde wanted to get mad and be all angry about it, but then he saw the other appearing again in some normal clothes and starting to climb out of the window.

He didn’t understand. Some people just had the gift of saying something completely serious when they meant it as sarcasm. 

He promised himself to try and stop thinking about how gay his every interaction with Patrick looked. Honestly, he thought that his friend was awakening some “gayness” inside him. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop hanging out with him. Patrick was too addictive.

The boy was soon on the ground, standing next to Henry, giving him a cheeky grin. 

“You running from your father?”

The blonde rolled his eyes and felt like punching his friend as hard as he could. It would be quite relieving. But he held himself and decided to let it slide. It took everything in him to do that, but he knew he had to. For the sake of investigation, or whatever. 

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s go to the junkyard,” Henry said and didn’t even wait for an answer as he started walking away from Patrick’s house, toward the junkyard. Their gang always loved to hang out there, so he thought it would be a nice place to be at. There was a lot of stuff to do and usually there was no one to annoy them. Unless the owner actually went to check on it and found them there. But even then, it was quite fun to run away from that guy.

He could feel Patrick staring at him the whole time, but he didn’t want to comment on it as the boy would probably say something disgusting and faggy. But he hated that look. The gaze that was burning holes into his body, that felt like it was leaving bruises on his skin. Maybe he should hurt his friend, just to show him how his staring felt. 

When they got to the junkyard, they went to the back, where they usually hung out. He knew about Patrick’s fridge. That was one of the few things he knew about, but wished he wouldn’t. Keeping animals in a fridge, waiting for them to die was kinda… impressive on one hand, concerning on the other. But who was he to judge? Besides, he knew the boy was crazy, so was it really all that surprising?

This time though, his friend didn’t have the urge to show him the fridge or tell him stuff about it. They were just quiet until they got to an old car and sat down on the ground in front of it. They sat next to each other, both leaning their backs against the front of the car. 

Something about it was so relaxing and peaceful. Henry got the time to think about what happened at home. Or what was happening every time he was there. Maybe he was done with it. He hated himself for being unable to stand up to his father. But maybe if he just got some courage…

"I admire you, Henry," Patrick suddenly said while not even looking at him. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. In very... interesting and also weird thoughts.  "I just wish you wouldn't be your father's puppet and acted on your own. Your own wants, not afraid of what others have to say."

Henry frowned. He didn't like that Patrick was insulting him this way. Telling him that he was weak because he apparently "didn't have his own brain". It was so wrong. He did have a brain! He did have his own beliefs, his own wants... 

But when his friend said it like that... It sounded real. It sounded like that was indeed the case. And if it was true, then he had to do something to change it. He couldn't be seen just as his father's puppet. He couldn't be that. "What do you like so much about me then?"

Patrick was silent for a while before looking Henry's way and finally breaking the silence again. "I guess you're interesting. My favorite subject to examine."

Henry saw the little smirk on Patrick's face, and he had a sudden urge to just slap it off of it. For those words, he honestly deserved nothing more. 

Subject to examine? Was he being an animal at a zoo? But then he had to remember he was doing the same thing. Oh my, I'm no better than that fag...

Suddenly, he saw Patrick move closer to him. So close that he could clearly see the real color of his eyes. Everyone thought that the tall boy had grey eyes, but when he was close like that, there was an obvious green shade mixed with a bit of brown in the middle that made his eyes look like a beautiful rainforest. At least it reminded Henry of that. 

"But I really admire you, Henry. And you can't even imagine how much stronger that feeling got when you started giving me all this attention..." Patrick continued and he was practically sitting on Henry's lap already. 

And Henry was stunned. Part of him wanted to shove his friend away and punch him as hard as it would take to make him wake up from this weird nonsense. But the other part wanted to grab the boy, pull him so much closer until their bodies were grinding against each other and kiss him until they would lose their breath. 

The disgusted part won. And not only because it would make him gay without a chance to take it back, but also because it all sounded shady. Either Patrick knew very well what he was doing and was trying to manipulate him... or he was completely unaware and just tried to show Henry how happy he was with his attention and friendly attitude and didn't know how else to show it. And honestly, if that boy was shaped to believe that any type of love should be shown in this way... 

"Patrick. I don't need your body to know that you like hanging out with me. Stop being a slut,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly in annoyance. It did annoy him, he really didn’t want to be dragged into some faggy shit like this. He nudged the other's shoulder, wanting to make him back off. It didn't exactly work.

“Fair. But I still want to kiss you…” Patrick said with the same cunning smirk on his face as usual, while looking right at the older’s lips. 

Henry was about to refuse again, but he didn’t even get to say anything before the taller boy just sat down on his lap and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. He froze. 

This was so wrong. He shouldn’t have even let his friend do something like this. The closeness, the touch, the soft lips touching his in gentle kisses. And he didn’t know what to do. If anybody saw this... if his damn father saw this…

Despite his mind setting off alarms, his hands found their way to Patrick’s hips to hold him close. Without even realizing at first, he started kissing back, wanting to taste more of that perfect mouth. He knew how wrong it was, but something about it felt so right. 

But that sudden feeling left quickly when thoughts about his father crawled into his mind again. He immediately pushed Patrick away, sending him backwards. The black-haired boy was looking at him with confusion for the second time that day, but neither of them said anything for a while. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you, Hockstetter.”

Chapter Text

Henry was just chilling in an empty house, enjoying his father's absence. It was just exceptional when he was left alone without having to listen to yelling every damn moment. 

But at the same time, maybe it would be better. Because now his bored mind kept going back to what happened the day before. How he and his friend kissed. How Patrick's hips felt so delicate under his hands as if meant to be held. Damn it, if Patrick was a woman, he would be so suitable to carry children. 

What am I thinking about? Henry had to ask himself because his mind started wandering too far and it could very quickly cause his body to react. And that was the last thing he wanted. 

He decided to go out and let the fresh air outside do its job in letting him forget about that and instead make him think about something else. As he walked out the door, maybe the wind didn't do shit, but the envelope in the ground definitely did. 

He frowned slightly and picked it up to find out who was sending him such lame letters. 

Today, party, Greta's house. Waiting for you, Greta.

It surprised him. He got an invitation to a party? With popular kids? That never happened. He was infamous in his school, feared and hated for his bully behavior. He didn't mind it, it was honestly rewarding to be so scary that the other kids just trembled every time they noticed him. But this was different... He felt curious about what this thing was about. And after all, he could stop thinking about Patrick for at least one day. That would definitely be better. Surely, after that there would be no way he would come back to having this weird "crush". No. No, it wasn't a crush, Patrick just messed with his mind, that was it.

—-

Henry arrived at around 10 pm, in his usual outfit with a few new bruises as accessories. He wasn't a fan of partying, but maybe he could lay his hands on some alcohol, possibly even a pretty chick, and have a good time. Forget about his old man, forget about Patrick.

So he immediately made his way over to the table with many alcohol bottles and took one without really being concerned for what it was. 

After taking a sip, he concluded that it was most likely vodka. After all, it didn't matter as long as it would get him drunk. 

"So you did show up," a girl's voice sounded behind him, reminding him that he was not alone here. He could almost forget. 

When he turned around, he saw Greta. She was not the hottest, he preferred black haired and skinnier girls, but he liked her. She was kinda easy, that much was known to everyone, so he found her intriguing. 

"I thought you would just try your hardest not to come to this lame party. Really, nothing's happening," Greta said with a shrug of her shoulders. For her to call her own party lame, it must've been true. Maybe he shouldn't have come here after all. 

"So I came here for nothing?" Henry scoffed and took another long sip from the bottle. He was starting to get frustrated. If he sneaked out of the house guarded by his father for nothing, he would feel like a fool. 

"Pretty much, yeah. Patrick asked me to send you that invitation. He's upstairs with Jake."

His blood started boiling in his veins. He wanted to forget about what happened with Patrick and instead of that, that damn coyote was present at this party. This game was unfair, he was always two steps behind for some reason. 

Who's Jake? he asked himself. If those two were in a room together, then that meant they were fucking. Who was Jake?

Henry took one last sip of the vodka before he started making his way upstairs. He didn't let go of the bottle, just in case he would need to drink more after he saw someone touching his Patrick. 

He was furious. And it was very clear by the way he opened every door forcefully, checked the room and then shut the door again when he didn't find his friend. All that was driving him was the fact that his friend was being held and taken advantage of by some random dude he didn't even know. David or whatever his name was, it didn't matter. 

There were no feelings behind it, of course, Henry only wanted to make sure Patrick was okay. Okay and only his .

He finally found the last room, most likely Greta's own, and did just the same as with all those before. Forced the door open and got inside to check it.

He thought he couldn't get more furious, but then he saw how this Blake, or whatever his name was- Henry couldn't remember it anymore for some reason, was all over Patrick. Touching him, making him let out sweet moans. 

It was disgusting. 

"The fuck is happening here?!" Henry growled in a very annoyed and frustrated voice. He was not playing around. He told himself he was doing it all for his friend. Saving his slutty ass. 

"Oh- I'm just... we were..." the guy stuttered and rather quickly got off Patrick. He grabbed his pants and dressed himself as if trying to hide evidence of what was just happening. But Henry was no fool, he would not forget about this. 

"You were what? You were trying to fuck him?" Henry said firmly and even though he tried to hold his rage back, it was not exactly possible. This dude, this whole situation... it was making him angry. He felt the need to beat the shit out of this guy for entering territory. 

"Henry. Why are you even here?" Patrick asked and lazily sat up on the bed. He was so nonchalant about it all, as usual, but it triggered the older boy even more. 

"Why am I here? Why the fuck am I here? You were about to fuck a random guy!" Henry yelled and pointed angrily at the dude that was now staring at him with confusion in his eyes. Unlike Patrick, who gave just a subtle roll of his eyes. Those sexy gray, mostly empty eyes that now had the drunk undertone. 

"I just wanted to fuck him, that isn't a big deal..." the Jake guy said, and it was so blunt that it pushed Henry past the edge of rational thinking that was already partly broken by the alcohol that settled in his blood. 

He swung the bottle of vodka towards the boy and hit his head with quite a lot of force. The glass shattered and the rest of the liquid spilled onto the floor. Not only did the guy immediately pass out, but there was also quite a lot of blood appearing on top of his head. 

 Henry's eyes widened slightly and threw the little part of the bottle that stayed in his hand, on the ground. He went to examine Jake and after checking his pulse, there was just a weak one. But he was alive. And he didn't know if that was good or not. He had no idea what he should do in that situation, he wasn't really prepared to deal with this ever. Especially not in someone else's house, during a party and drunk. 

"Congratulations, Henry. You're a fucking idiot," Patrick called from behind him and there was some shuffling which meant the black-haired guy got up and went somewhere else. Henry wasn't sure where, as he could only blankly stare at the body on the ground. 

"You have to kill him properly now. Or else he's gonna talk and you'll have a fucking problem with your old man."

"What...? Kill him pro... properly?" Henry forced himself to look away and instead check Patrick. And he was quite surprised to see his friend wiping the neck of the bottle and its shattered part, a bit of blood staying on his t-shirt. 

"Yes, use your switchblade and-" Patrick started, but then he paused when he caught Henry's look. He rolled his eyes and placed the bottleneck on the furniture without touching it with bare hands. Instead, he touched Henry's shoulder. "Henry. If he wakes up, he will talk. Listen to me carefully. You were about to kill this guy, so now you're not going to chicken out, understood?"

"I'm not scared," Henry said quickly as if that would help anything when he was still stunned from what he just did. Of course, hurting others and threatening them to kill them was one thing, but really having a murder in his hands, that was another. It didn't feel bad and maybe that scared him more than the fact there was an almost dead man on the floor. 

"Of course you're not," Patrick scoffed mockingly, definitely meant sarcastically. But there was something. Something about the way the younger looked at the injured boy, about how he looked at Henry. That excited look, lights in his eyes. As if he just came back from the dead and now was full of life. Even though he still acted nonchalant. 

"He won't remember anything. Why kill him 'properly'?" Henry asked, trying to make Patrick agree on simply leaving and seeing what would happen. 

"You're a pussy," was the only answer he got. After that, Patrick came to the boy and placed his arms around the boy's chest. He then started dragging him to the window. 

"What're you doing?"

"Getting him out without others noticing. And if you're such a tough guy, you should help," Patrick growled at him. 

Henry stared for a moment longer before he eventually came back to Earth and decided to help. He might have regretted his actions, but he really couldn't just run away from this now. Plus, it was exciting in a way. Especially how Patrick was so quick to react as if he was a serial killer who dealt with this every day. 

"I didn't panic, by the way," Henry mumbled when he took Jake's legs and helped get him to the window and then throw him out. His body fell to the bushes under it. 

"You've never dealt with murder. But don't tell me you've never dreamed about it," Patrick answered and sat down on the windowsill. He took out a cigarette and elegantly lit it up as if nothing happened and this was just another boring night. It was intriguing. And sexy. 

Henry had to laugh shortly, but he quickly cleared his throat to make it seem like he was just as blunt as Patrick. It didn't work out as well as he hoped it would. "I just didn't expect it to go like this. Unprepared, in Greta's house."

It was partly true. He still told himself that he would be able to kill anyone if he would plan it before. He wasn't afraid of killing, mostly just of the feeling it gave him. It felt oddly good, gave him a sense of power. And that was what surprised him, scared him. As well as his impulsive behavior.

Plus the fact that if anyone found out, he would be dead. His father was a cop after all. 

"You like Greta?" Patrick then suddenly asked, taking Henry's mind off of murders and his father. It stunned him because he had never thought about that. Mainly because no, he didn't have a crush on Greta. But he knew he would fuck her if given the opportunity. Just because, no real reason. 

"She's fine. But she's also a damn slut. Good for nothing but a quick fuck."

"Good. Then you won't mind this," Patrick said and gave Henry that typical empty smile that didn't reach his eyes. He threw the cigarette out of the window and let it fall into the bush with Jake's body. It didn't take long to start a fire as it didn't rain in a few days and so everything was dry and easy to encourage the fire to spread. 

Once again, Henry could just stare at Patrick. Think about how hot this was. All the younger did was making him more intrigued and more... aroused. He noticed the bulge in his pants much earlier, when they threw the half dead guy out of the window, but now he was painfully aware of it. But he knew he couldn't allow himself to do anything gay. It was so wrong, even when alcohol was clouding his judgement, and his friend was so damn sexy and fuckable. 

He at least leaned closer and grabbed Patrick's cheeks before connecting their lips in a rough kiss. It felt natural to do this. And so he let himself continue. He had his eyes closed and tried to imagine he was kissing some cute chick, but his mind kept circling back to the image of Patrick and the way his eyes lit up and showed some life when he saw blood. The rush of adrenaline when he saw dead body, or at least almost dead. 

It all felt too damn good. Henry couldn't stop. He grabbed Patrick by the waist and pulled him closer, forcing him to stand up instead of sitting on the windowsill. He then pushed the younger boy against the wall and deepened the kiss even more, invading Patrick's mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch of it. 

And once he felt Patrick moan softly into the kiss, he felt his body acting on its own. His hands tried to unbuckle his friend's belt and he felt very clearly the growing excitement that he probably had never seen on Patrick. He sometimes wondered if the black-haired boy was even able to get hard if nothing really made him excited. 

Henry desperately tried to find any rational thought telling him to stop this in his mind, but the only thoughts he did have in mind were screaming at him to just fuck Patrick senseless. And for some reason, he was listening to them. 

Or he would be, if the spicy smell of smoke didn't hit his nose like a brick. He pulled back and had to cough while also panting heavily after the kiss. 

"We can continue later, you know..." Patrick said, looking at Henry in a way the older found very cute and intriguing. 

But he knew there would be no later. He wouldn't let himself lose his mind like this again. He wasn't gay, he couldn't do this. 

It was all mixing in his head when they started running away from the house, each their own way, to avoid the fire and avoid getting caught when someone would call 911. 

After a while though, the only thing he could think about were just those soft, tasty lips.

Chapter Text

Patrick's POV

He came home quite late at night. He hoped his parents would be asleep already, but he half expected them not to be.

He sneaked into the house, pulling his shoes off to be more quiet as he began rushing upstairs. He was usually able to glide around the house without being noticed, but this time, he didn't have that luck. 

"Where have you been?" he heard his mother's voice from behind, coming from her and his father's bedroom that had opened door. 

He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed and turned to his mother. The woman was constantly tired, or seemed that way, because she was heavily addicted to drugs and alcohol. Her husband probably taught her that. She had bruises on her face from being slapped. His poor mother... He couldn't care less. 

"Greta's place, I told you," he replied with an annoyed scoff. He really wasn't having these useless conversations with a junkie. 

"Greta's? You fucked with a girl? That's not supposed to happen, is it? Your father forbid you from fucking with others!" 

He shook his head in disbelief. He remembered very well what his father told him, how could he not. But despite all that was happening, he was still just a horny teenager who tried to forget about all those bad feelings by collecting new, better experiences. Maybe he could end up having a good relationship with sex if he just rewrote his memories. Or something like that was told to him, he didn't listen much to the therapist.

"I didn't fuck anyone," he answered and shrugged his shoulders slightly. His mother gave him a frown, but he couldn't really tell what emotion was hiding behind it as the woman frowned often and at everything. 

He was then about to go upstairs, when he was suddenly caught from behind by big, rough hands. They immediately traveled to his hips and pulled him back until his behind was pressed against the bulge in the man's pants. 

He let out a surprised gasp and felt his heart speed up. Nothing made him scared. Nothing except his own damn father. 

"Oh, baby. I hope you don't mind a little reminder of who you belong to," his father said in a deep voice, the one that made him shiver in disgust. 

But Patrick was used to this. Used to the way his old man grabbed him by the hair and forced him to bend over, used to the burning sensation that made him scream with every thrust, used to the occasional bleeding, used to this all. 

But it still hurt no less. 

It was only when all this was over that he felt himself finally breathe out and tried to rush into his room to hide from the world. Feeling disgusting and embarrassed. He was supposed to be a god, supposed to be fearless and a damn psycho like everyone said. 

His legs were shaking helplessly and he almost fell on his knees a few times before he finally got into his room and closed and locked the door behind himself. He made it to the mirror, wanting to see the wrack that would look back at him. 

He stared at himself for a long while. He felt his father's touch everywhere, he felt like he was dirty and disgusting. 

Pathetic, the voice in his mind growled at him. It felt like truth. Like he had to believe this voice because it was right- he was pathetic. How could he let his father do that? Why didn't he fight back? Pathetic piece of shit.

He noticed the tears staining his cheeks, his glassy eyes perfectly visible in the mirror. Weak.

He felt so helpless, so weak and vulnerable. He wasn't supposed to feel like that, he was supposed to be all tough and scary, not crying like an emotional bitch. 

What if Henry saw him right now? He would stop talking to him, he would kick him out of the Bowers gang. He would lose all his friends. He would lose everything.

He felt his breathing pick up and just as the thought hit his mind, he decided to act on it. He grabbed the mirror and with all the strength he could find, he smashed it against the wall. He watched it shatter, all the pieces of glass on the floor reminding him of himself. Broken and shattered. Helpless. Weak. Pathetic. 

He took a few pieces of glass and started throwing them against the wall on the other side of the room. It shattered more, creating even more little pieces. He didn't even notice the blood on his hands until he hugged himself, his hands clutching at his arms, his short nails scratching them. Damn pathetic. 

He didn't want to hear those thoughts. He wanted to end them. He wanted to be left alone, not hear anything anymore. He didn't want to be touched, talked to, seen. He wanted to stay in the shadows forever, hide from the rest of the world. Hide from Henry and his other friends, hide from his sorry excuse for a mother, hide from school, from everyone else. Hide from his father. 

He fell onto the floor, crying. It was a cycle. Get home, get violated, break down in his room, get over it. Again and again, all the time. It was a never ending story, a carousel that never stopped. A train without an ending station. 

He wouldn't let Henry see him like this. Not now, not ever. The kisses from his older friend felt like haven. It was the only real comfort he could get and he would never forgive himself if he lost it because of his pathetic problems. 

No. He could never tell Henry.

Chapter Text

Henry's POV

The night of the party was long gone, it was already afternoon the day after. And yet he couldn't shake off the uncomfortable feeling that was digging into his mind. 

He shouldn't have done something drastic in the heat of the moment. Damn it, how could he let emotions get better out of him again when he promised himself he wouldn't lash out because of anyone, much less someone like Patrick?

He tried to rationalize it. He was only protecting what was his, wasn't he? Patrick had no right to flirt with other guys, and Henry certainly wasn't about to let anyone else touch him.

That was enough of a reason, wasn't it?

It was all spiraling in his mind and he wasn't sure if those weak attempts to explain his own behavior were enough. It definitely didn't chase away the paranoia, the thoughts about what would happen if anyone found out. If his father found out. 

He let out a sigh and threw a ball against the wall in his room. It bounced off of it and fell back into his hand. He had been doing this for a while already. 

He was trying to find something better to do, but he wasn’t sure what it should be. And so he let himself sit on his ass the whole day and it was only when the moon was already up in the sky that he stopped slacking and thinking about bullshit. 

He decided it was time to clear his head a little. He really needed it, it felt like there was steam coming from his head and his brain was getting fried. It was time for a good night walk. 

He usually didn’t like walking through the main streets and as he tried to stay off them, he soon got on the road that led out of the town. So he got on the main road after all. 

He would normally turn around and find a different way instead because he wasn’t a fan of the kissing bridge, but he noticed a person standing at the railing, having his hands placed on it. 

He got curious and couldn’t help but come closer to find out who was out there so late at night. 

He was both disappointed and happy that it turned out to be no one else than his favorite friend and also a nightmare in one. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked after a moment of simply staring at Patrick. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was the dim light of the lamps at the end of the kissing bridge that caught the boy’s features in a way Henry hated noticing- sharper and more defined. Oh, damn it… 

He quickly shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. He couldn't think about that, not after what happened at the party. 

"Just couldn't sleep," Patrick mumbled an answer, not giving him a look. It seemed like he didn't even want to talk to him which was strange, Henry thought this guy could barely live without him. 

"You look.." he started but very soon realized he didn't even know what he wanted to say. His friend looked weird? Different than usual? But did he really? 

There was something about the way Patrick was staring into the distance with empty eyes, the way he had his hands placed on the wood and they seemed a little shaky. It wasn't the usual attitude. 

"Leave me alone, Henry," the younger boy said after a moment of silence. It was strange hearing this from him. 

And Henry would love to leave and not care about him, but somehow not even his own mind wanted to listen to him. 

He moved closer and leaned on the railing, dragging his look to where the other was staring. "You know.. You've said you admire me. This isn't how you treat people who you admire," he decided to joke. 

But instead of a short laugh, he got a glare from Patrick. It was a surprising reaction, Henry wasn't even sure what it was for when he didn't say anything bad. 

He looked deep into the boy's eyes, trying to find answers in them. They were empty, but somehow differently empty than usual. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but there was just something very different in it. 

"Can you just leave me alone? I didn't fucking ask you to be here!" Patrick raised his voice and made Henry frown in confusion. 

It was a complete change. Not a nonchalant attitude and definitely not a declaration of love. Which would be disgusting anyway, of course. 

He wasn't sure what the fuck happened to his friend and why he was suddenly so bitchy. He acted like a dumped chick. What was his problem?

"I won't leave if you don't tell me what the fuck happened to you," he said and decided to be so bold to touch Patrick's back. It was supposed to be a gesture of support and friendship, to show that he was there to listen. It was a bit too sentimental maybe, but Henry decided that it was fitting for this moment. Plus it was friendly, nothing gay. 

Patrick flinched and slapped his hand away though. Plus he stepped away and sat down next to the railing further away from Henry, obviously not wanting any closeness. 

Which was another surprise for Henry. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He was about to wave it off and walk away because this was getting annoying. But he didn't want to fuck up his research by letting his friend off the hook in a moment like this. This could be an extremely important piece of the puzzle he was trying to solve. 

So he sat down as well, keeping the distance between them to try and give Patrick as much comfort space as he needed. For whatever reason. 

He looked in front of himself and as he waited for any other words, his eyes examined the names carved into the kissing bridge. Patience wasn't his thing, but the peaceful atmosphere of the night was helping him stay calm and not get too frustrated. Besides, sometimes just sitting outside in almost complete darkness was supporting that patience. 

R+E , he scoffed at the letters carved into the wood. There were many others but for some reason, these caught his attention the most. He wasn't even sure why, anyone could have written that. 

"Don't you think it's cringe? Carving names to manifest love?" he commented out loud, wanting to ease the atmosphere a little and maybe make Patrick talk again- and maybe not so aggressively this time. 

For a moment he thought it was a useless attempt because he wasn't getting an answer. But then Patrick let out a sigh and finally spoke in a slightly less harsh tone. "I bet you'd do it too if you had some stupid crush."

"Would I now?" Henry asked, a slightly amused smirk on his face as he imagined how that would look. If the biggest bully in Derry went out to carve a name of a loved one into the bridge. Who would it even be? 

Patrick. 

Oh hell nah. 

"You're cheesy as fuck. And a big softie," Patrick answered and Bowers had to roll his eyes at that. He hated being called things like "softie", but he let it slide this time. 

He noticed that his friend moved closer and was now sitting almost right next to him. But it still felt like he was keeping distance between them. More a metaphorical one than physical. 

Would make sense because Patrick was always the one to be into that philosophical and metaphorical shit. 

He wanted to answer something, but after a moment of thinking he decided to drop it. He looked over at Hockstetter just to see him staring back at him. 

He was tempted to turn his head away and break the intense eye contact, but he didn't want to be the weak one who loses this staring battle. 

"Can I ask you something, Henry?"

That startled him a bit because he wasn't sure what the question could be. And he didn't like not knowing. But what could he do. 

So he just nodded instead of voicing "yes". 

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" 

Henry started laughing immediately after hearing those words. There was no fucking way his insane friend was asking him if he was a bad person. What a damn joke. 

But when he noticed Patrick was staying serious and stared at him just the same as before, he slowly calmed down. He had to take a deep breath to completely stop laughing. 

"Buddy, you're the worst person I've ever met. If killing animals is not enough to prove it, I don't know what is."

"I don't kill animals," Patrick said, his voice sounding monotone and almost disappointed. At least that was how Henry interpreted what he heard. And it once again made him surprised and puzzled. 

"I collect dead animals to keep their bones, that's all."

He raised his eyebrow. Yeah, like hell he did. He could almost remember seeing Patrick kill an animal. Almost. But there had to be a time when it happened. This was just some manipulation, trying to look like a good guy, nothing more. No way he would believe that. 

No sane person would keep animal bones just for fun. 

“But I did kill something once..”

That caught Henry’s attention again and he instantly forgot about the whole animal stuff. This was definitely getting interesting. “What was it?”

“My brother.” Patrick shrugged his shoulders slightly and then looked at his hands. “I was five. My parents liked him better.”

“Jesus Christ..” Henry let out in a gasp and had to take a moment to think about that. Of course, it wasn’t all that surprising, he saw the killer mood the day before at the party, but own brother..? It was probably only fair, the explanation made sense for a child, but he couldn’t understand how a child could even come up with a drastic solution like that. But then again, he was well aware of Patrick being crazy. The question was, did this make him terrifying or just more fascinating?

He decided to ask the pretty logical thing. “Do you regret it?” 

“I don’t know,” Patrick answered simply and after that, he stood up. It was a clear indication he wasn’t about to talk anymore. 

And so Henry decided to stop his investigation for today there. It was more than enough information for one day, he made mental notes for some stuff and yet this one thing overwrote them all. It was probably a small thing in the context, but it was something that shaped his friend. Something that could have been the reason for the abuse from his father. Oh damn, this piece of information suddenly completed half of the puzzle he was working on and it smoothed many theories. 

And so for a while, he was able to push back any feelings of gayness that tried to get to him, this was now far more important. This was now something to focus on instead.