method of modern love (high school AU! henry creel/reader)

chapter 10: the promise

chapter namesake: the promise by when in rome.

thank you all so much for the continued support! im sorry if i dont reply back to comments quickly, i dont have the wattpad app :,)

this is a dialogue heavy chapter and a little more lighthearted, i hope you enjoy!

                                                                                                *****

The room was filled with a heavy silence.

The kind of heavy silence where it was unbearable to ignore, as if it were an elephant in the room. Silence so heavy that the world felt as if it rested on your head, begging you to bring it back to a neutral balance, to restore the natural order it once had. The air was thick, suffocating, words catching in your throat as you processed his reaction that unveiled itself in front of you.

The droplets slowly began to pour from his sockets like small rain dewdrops, marking a trail down his face, while his mouth stretched in a straight, thin line, as if keeping himself from possibly screaming.

Shock was the only emotion that could take you. Tears were not something that you would've expected coming from Henry, his emotions seemed to rotate on only three neutral options. You were still processing the vision that you had suddenly received, the bloody, twisted images replaying in your mind like it was stuck on rewind. The far echoing of alarms and cries still remained in the back of your mind, though, long gone.

As you were so tied up in the foreign memory, you failed to notice his shaky hand wrapped around your wrist, gripping onto yours so tightly that the blood flow had stopped to your hand. The strength of his hold slowly began to come to your nerves, wincing in pain as you looked down to your wrist. Henry quickly broke his eye contact with your face, noticing your expression, withdrawing his hand, and sulking back into the corner of his bed that he occupied.

You stood still, staring out into the blank space of the tawny walls of his bedroom, as if searching for something to say.

"Henry..." It was all you could begin to murmur, watching him wipe the non-stop tears falling from his eyes, eyebrows furrowed in an expression as if he was frustrated with the reaction he was producing from himself.

He glared towards you, much like the reaction he had given you upon the first day of speaking to him, "What."

You sighed, taking to slide his venomous tone off your shoulders, "That—"

"That was what?" He couldn't even let you finish a phrase, "That was what? Horrific? Gruesome? Utter—"

"Let me finish, Henry!" You held a palm up, watching his tense form jump up from his fetal position, his movements much like a nervous animal hiding from humans. He remained silent, though words itched to come out of his mouth.

"That was a memory, right?" You stumbled over your words slightly, not wanting to upset him further, but standing your ground, "That was real, right, Henry?"

He looked down to the carpet flooring silently, his expression stretched into a grimace. His process of explaining things was rather odd, at times, he felt better saying a few words, opting for the visual motifs. He knew whenever he did speak with such strong emotions, it was nothing but pure word vomit, phrases that ran on and on for millions upon millions of miles. Rants upon ravings of concepts he felt only he could understand.

But, he just couldn't help himself.

"Yes. It was real." Henry snarled, raising his tone, though his voice remained with the usual soft edge, "It was real. I did those things. I killed those people."