The bell rang. In an instant Henry stood from the chair, almost leaping from it. He grabbed his bag and left the therapist's office before she even got a word out.
He only made it half way down the hall before, "Henry! Henry you forgot something." He stopped and waited for the clatter of her heals to catch up to him. He turned to the short women who placed one hand on his shoulder and held out the notebook with the other. "You're a good kid, Henry. You just gotta realize that yourself. I got what I needed from that" she looked at the notebook. "Just use for yourself now, we'll talk soon."
Henry gave her a small smile, it was a thank you. Sadly that smile was all he could conjure up. He knew though, the next time he sees Mrs. Shewby they'd talk about something that Henry wasn't ready share. That terrified him.
The halls were empty, all counsellor offices and therapy rooms were separate in their own wing of the school. By the time he reached the main part of the building everyone most likely made it to their classrooms.
Henry had no plans of heading to class, not yet. He had two more days before Henry or Patrick needed to think about schoolwork. First week there is just enrolment adjusting. Mostly just gave everyone time to realize they are basically stuck in a fancy prison or for the 'normal' people, they just get to unpack and settle in.
Henry made it up the stairs to his dorm. Well, shared dorm. He knocked on the door softly, "Pat...can you open up?" He spoke quietly as if everyone was there and not in class.
There was not sound coming from inside the room, so Henry knocked again. After that he pulled out his keys, that he felt all too lazy to pull out before.
The door unlocked with a light click, then walked in.
The dorms were set up simply, two beds, two dressers, one desk, one closet. The rooms were all painted a cream colour with brown curtains, brown blankets and brown wooden floors. Though in a way Henry and Patrick lucked out, not only getting a dorm together but it was semi separate from the others. There was a janitor closet on one side and the laundry room on the other. The washing machines couldn't be heard from inside the dorm, but easily from the outside. And that was all there was on that small hallway. In a way, Patrick and Henry were in their own little world.
The place itself was far too nice for what they had grown up around. It was like this Maine and the Maine that Derry was apart of, were completely different places entirely. So for Henry and Patrick's little dorm to feel like a run down closet only made it seem more like home than any other place on campus.
Patrick laying in his bed wrapped in all the blankets he could find. His mouth was slightly open with the gentle hum of even breaths escaping. The gentle twitch of his eye lids as if he encased in some complex dream.
Henry took notice, he closed the door with the least amount of noise he could. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Henry still held the notebook and with a harsh throw it flew right into Patrick's forehead.
He groaned in frustration "What the fuck, Bowers!" He reached up to his face, with his eyes still closed and grabbed the book and made an attempt to throw it back it him. Patrick rolled over in bed to face the opposite direction and face away from Henry. "I was trying to fucking sleep.." he grumbled into the blankets, further distorting the sound.
Henry let out a slight snicker reaching to the floor to pick up his book.
"C'mon how didn't you here me bang on the door?I'm honestly surprised the book was able to wake you up" he exhaled sitting down on his own bed.
A moment later Patrick rolled back over to face him.
"How was the shrink?" Patrick made an effort to sit up and stretch his arms over his head letting out a loud yawn.
His hair was a mess in every sense of the word. It was a rats nest, Henry can already hear him bitch'n complaing about it's gonna hurt to brush out.
"Stupid.. " he laid on top of his sheets. "I think it's a waste of time- I'm not gonna do that crap again"
Henry was worried about the next meeting, he was worried to talk about his Dad, his friends and what happened with Kaspbrak. Most information that the therapist needed was on file but she wanted the humiliation of him saying it.
No,
It wasn't worry that Henry was feeling it was a deep set sense of rage that swelled in his chest and sent shivers down his spine. He. Didn't. Want. To. Talk.
"That's too bad.. Shewby's kinda hot. I was thinking next time I was gonna see her I might-"
"Bullshit" Henry pouted like a toddler, with his brows furrowed and face tensed.
"Ooh your jealous I'm gonna fuck the shrink" Patrick got up from his bed and left the room.
Henry didn't let his his gaze leave the ceiling. Making shapes from the plaster in hopes to get his mind off of what's been happening. Or to further bring himself into his thoughts, to organize them and re-think them. Even something as stupid as if Patrick's absence was something other than going to the washroom.
Henry had recently picked up a bad habit of overthinking which clashed with his usual issue with not thinking at all. To only to take action and do things with little care how it affects those around him. It was in moments this this on where Henry even wondered whether or not he has anyone to even go back to when it comes time to return to Derry.
It was a stupid and small thought. Yet the idea of Belch and Victor moving on without him was a fear he never knew he carried.
Maybe under it all, Henry was just as psychotic as everyone said. But only now he did he truly realize that himself.
The shapes in the ceiling melted away. Henry heaved a panicked breath. Bringing his legs into his chest, slightly hugging them.
"Henry..?" Patrick returned to the dorm, he placed a hand on Henry's shoulder and sat down next to him. "You alright?"
"We are fucked."
——
A/N
Whoopsie doodle I forgot about this
You are gonna have to bars with me and the slow updates to this.
YOU ARE READING
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...
