The junkyard, what used to be such an amazing place, was now tarnished with a memory that god himself would want to be rid of. It haunted Henry, feeding on his mind. It was just there, always there no matter what.
Henry felt disgusting. Dirty, even.
As he walked through the haunted place, he felt eyes on the back of his head. haunted.
As he walked past many abandoned cars, he scuffed his feet on the rough ground. Henry whispered to himself over and over "stupid Patrick, that fucking asshole, a cocksucker what he is, nasty." Henry stopped and leaned against a well-rusted car. So damaged and rusted that it was almost unrecognizable.
The teen reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, one of the many he's stolen off his father. he lit it. Breathing in the smoke and exhaling. Routine of most teenagers nowadays. A neverending routine into an addiction. The same of their parents and their grandparents and now them, teenagers, children. But how on earth could someone not like smoking it was the best and at that moment Henry fully believed that. It was the best.
Henry relaxed more with each inhale. He made him feel sane and of course the same. The same as he was before the incident, He was unbreakable, strong, and powerful. After what happened he felt like he lost that, he was weak.
Now He's taking back the junkyard, it was his kingdom before and now was his prison. But that was bullshit, fuck that. The junkyard was his, always was and always will be.
A footstep
Henry turned to the noise. It was close. He was alert.
20 feet away, a boy with dark raven hair walked out into the clearing. His hair bounced on his shoulders with each step closer to Henry.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Hockstetter?"Henry spoke more as an accusation than a question before Patrick replied, Henry, spoke again, "You remember what I said if I ever saw you again? HUH?? You FUCKING REMEMBER?!!!"
Henry was shouting loud enough it could have echoed.
Patrick stopped walking closer. Though, he seemed unphased by Henry's shouting. He didn't lie when he told Henry that he wasn't scared of him. "Yeah, I do. It was only like a week ago."
2 weeks and 4 days.
"Then it was pretty stupid for you to fucking come here!!" Henry's face was contorted in pure anger, a mask, truthfully he was worried. " I said I WOULD FUCKING KILL YOU" The burning cigarette stung Henry's fingers, ouch fuck. He flicked it away without a second thought. Henry looked back at Patrick, he was emotionless. Not an emotion at all, like a puppet, a figure without a soul, a voice, and worst of all, without emotions.
a moment passed
then another
Henry huffed, "get the fuck out of here Patrick" his voice low just barely above a whisper. Henry sounded weak and defeated.
"No," Patrick said flatly. He walked closer to Henry, and with each step, Patrick saw how more and more tense became.
holy shit I really did a number on him, Patrick thought.
"Henry look at yourself, jeez. I could mistake you for a whimpering kitten. Fucking get over it, it's not like it wasn't something some random slut would do to you. so, Get. over. it."
"fuck you."
"Oh come on Henry seriously? You USED to be king of Derry and now you are nothing but a sad little loser. What I did was for you. So let's be honest I'm in control here. Without me you are nothing."
"that's bullshit and you know it"
"You need me. You've always needed me. I was always there for you, no matter what. Then you throw me aside like trash. You threaten me, your only real friend. Me?!" Patrick acted offended. Henry didn't want to say it, but what Patrick said was true. He was there for him since well, forever. But what he did... It was for you, A voice said, in the back of Henry's mind. His own mind betraying him now.
"I have other friends Patrick, don't act all high and mighty. They are my real friends you fucker." Real friends, talking about it, he felt like a middle schooler in some stupid drama. but in a way that was true.
"Hahhaha...Oh, Henry don't kid yourself. Who? Moose and Peter? or Vic and Belch? huh? If think that's true then you must be blinder than a bat." His laugh was haunting and disturbing. "We both know they only hang around you for immunity. Dealing with your shit, all day, every fucking day. They've seen what you've done: breaking kids' arms, cutting a kid's stomach, and throwing firecrackers at people. They are scared of you Henry. They don't want to be one of your victims so stand back and watch you fight over and over, never stopping you. They are scared of you, they are not your friends."
fuck, fuck, fuck. He's right, why the fuck does he always have to be right?
"But me, I'm not scared, I'm with you-" Patrick leaned over and whispered into Henry's ear "to the end."
He was cruel, Patrick was as cruel as they came. Henry felt weak so fucking weak in his presence.
Patrick backed off a bit, he gave Henry space.
"so what, I just move on, and boom your my best friend again, ignore it happened at all" Patrick nodded, Henry hated him.
2 weeks ago he thought though hating Patrick, even as messed up as he was, hating him was impossible. So even now as Henry wanted to hate him, he couldn't. He was still Patrick. he was Pat, his best friend since elementary.
"Fine, you win Patrick. You fucking win... so now can you fuck off, fuck off to your refrigerator or some shit." Henry smiled a small smirk that just barely reached the corner of his lips.
It was nothing in comparison to the shit-eating grin that was on Patrick's face. He looked at Henry, happily- and for once Patrick seemed actually happy.
"See you around Henry", then Patrick turned away and disappeared down the path out of the junkyard.
What the fuck just happened?
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A/N:
so, if you haven't read the book you might not know who moose or Peter are which is fine cause they won't be in this story, however, if you don't know about the junkyard scene then this probably was hella confusing. sorry
just for an actual note this story will not be following true to the original timeline whatsoever.
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You are Real (Henpat/Henrick)
Fanfiction(Patrick Hockstetter x Henry Bowers) Henry knew one part of his past was haunting him, he wished that it was nothing more than a nightmare, but the memory held true and the person still cursed it. The memory felt like it was burning him; however, he...
