Summary: When Henry falls in love with his best friend's girlfriend, he goes out on a path of self-destruction. Will the pain take away the heartache, or will his feelings only grow?
The beating of Henry's heart against his ribcage sped up as you looked back into his eyes. The things he felt overwhelmed him, making him ignore every rational thinking part of his brain that was screaming at him to not make a move on his best friend's girlfriend, and just do what he had been wanting to do for a long time.
So, he did. Slowly he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.
From this close, he could smell the intoxicating scent of the perfume you put on every morning. Mixing that with the way your soft lips perfectly met his movements, he was completely drawn in. When you part your lips, Henry lets his tongue slip past and try to savor this feeling the best he can without having to use his bloodied hands. And he succeeds until the air has been sucked out of both your lungs and you have to part with content smiles on your lips.
"Have you- have you done that before?" You ask, still slightly out of breath.
He thinks about lying. But he knows he can't lie, not to you. "Only once," he mutters. Forgetting his wounds when he reaches up to run his hand through his hair.
"We should go inside and clean you up," You say when you see the dried blood.
Henry nods and follows you as you walk out of the garage and into the house.
The house was the same as always: Cheap alcohol bottles standing on the tables, lights out, and ashtrays spreading the smell of cigarettes around like candles. He never really wanted you to see this; this place wasn't his home, not even close to it.
"Here, just sit down," You give him a soft smile, soothing his nerves.
Henry watches you as you treat his wounds, the corners of his lips curved into a faint smile at your tenderness. He had always admired that about you.
You look up for a second, your hands holding his. "I know we never really talk about these things, but... Is everything okay, here at home?"
A lump formed in his throat, his bandaged up hands slightly starting to shake. He knows you won't, but he doesn't want you to think of him as weak. So he nods; A stiff movement of his head as he clenches his jaw to keep back the tears.
"You don't have to lie. I care about you," You say in a quiet whisper, your eyes showing concern.
Henry looks up into the golden light that shone through the windows, the voice in his head that resembled the one of his dad yelling at him not to cry.
As he parted his lips to speak, a tear ran over the burning skin of his cheek. Other tears soon following before you lean in and hug him tightly.
"It's going to be okay, I promise you."
He's not sure about what you can do to help. But it helps soothe the sadness he's feeling, knowing you're here with him, for real now.
