Yet again, I force myself to change positions so that I could find a more comfortable one to fall asleep in. It feels like exhaustion and emptiness are the only true feelings that register in my tired brain as I tug my blankets over my head so that the minor moonlight streaking in through the curtains stops bothering me. But even as I bring my knees up to my chest and hug my pillow, it doesn't seem to make me want to fall asleep any faster. Which is what brings me to once again roll over; this time in a bit more of a defeated manor.

The blankets are left in the dust as I kick them off of my body and opt lie on my stomach. I lick my dry lips as I hook my arms underneath the pillow and bury my face in it. Without my prior consent, my heavy eyes glance up at the [color] clock on my nightstand and read the digitized lettering that displayed "Sunday" along with today's date alongside it. Not to forget that "11:57 p.m." was placed right underneath it, the numbers practically ready to flicker to 11:58 at any second. I release a gentle sigh and take a moment to squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can, maybe even organize my racing thoughts. As my body stills and relaxes against the mattress, I manage to catch wind of the familiar sound of tapping on my window.

Tap, tap, tap,

My eyes crack open, now blurred by exhaustion. I do my best to mentally assure myself that none of the boys would be visiting at this hour, and that it was just that fucking branch from the large oak tree on my front lawn. I bury my face deeper into my pillow and curl up once more, letting my body shift so that I laid comfortably on my side. Quietly, I allow my eyes to droop once again.

Tap, tap, tap,
Tap, tap, tap, tap,

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I let out a few curses as I finally push myself upright and swing my legs over the edge. It better be the branch, I tell myself, because if it's Hockstetter coming to raid my kitchen again he's dead. I ignore the uncomfortable feeling of my bare feet touching the cold wooden floor and stand up. It didn't take long for my body to go into autopilot and carry me over to the window. The tapping was rather aggressive now, and I was sure that the window was going to shatter if I allowed it to go on any longer. With a sleepy yawn, I scratch my itchy head with one hand and busy myself with pushing the curtains aside with the other.

Tap, Tap—

CLICK

I unlock the window with a swift and practiced flick of my wrist. I didn't exactly have much time to lift up my own window, because the hands reached down and yanked it upward before I could even begin to tug it off the windowsill. Out of pure reflex, I step backwards, almost tripping over a discarded shirt as the figure tumbles into my room with a start. Panicked, I shush the figure and go to help them up, only to have my hands almost instantaneously swatted away the second I gripped the strong upper arm of the figure.

"Don' – Don't fuckin' touch me! "The voice of Henry hisses at me

I retreat to my original position of standing and opt to leave my arms at my sides. Still tired and confused, I watch the silhouette that I now knew to be Henry as he swiftly pushed himself up to his feet. The scent of sweat and disgustingly boisterous B.O. fills my nostrils as he dusts himself off haphazardly for a moment, before taking a few steps over to the window in order to shut it rather harshly. I reach my hands out in an effort to convey my urgency as I let a quieting 'shh' slip through my gritted teeth. This retard is gonna wake up my family if he keep banging around like a gorilla in a cage, Is all I could seem to think.

Henry visibly tenses up as I shush him, and swiftly whips around after he finishes locking my window back into place. I can see the abnormal redness that painted the tan skin of his face as he glared at me with knitted together eyebrows and a dark sneer. With his right hand, he gripped the dusty top of my window in a deathly hold, whilst the other he kept clenched into a tight fist that trembled from the tightness of his hold. Confused, I continue to stare at him, noticing that it wasn't just the balled up fist that was shaking, but rather, his entire body. His entire body was trembling in a harsh and aggressive manor.

"Henry– It's late, What—" I start off, racking my brain for words

"Shut up." Henry abruptly interrupts

I watch him as he begrudgingly releases my window and instead opts to wrap his arms around himself in a very tough guy manor. On one hand, I was actually slightly astonished and utterly dumbfounded by his aggressive behavior. But on the other hand, I was incredibly unsurprised, Henry always had been hotheaded and he was known for what an asshole he was. So, fuck, I was pretty 50/50 I suppose. I raise my arms up and rub my sleepy eyes, taking my time with rubbing them. I was too tired for this bullshit. Softly, I let out another yawn before finally lowering my hands back to my sides to stuff into the warm pockets of my fuzzy black and blue plaid pj pants. I allow my shoulders to slump comfortably before I finally take a moment to listen in on his heaving and his panting.

"What are you even doing in my house?" I ask, almost solemnly "It's like, so late."

For once, Henry doesn't even bother to give me some sort of response. No, instead he just tugs my curtains back together so that everything in my room was cloaked further by even more darkness. I just silently eye him as his tense shoulders finally lower themselves to a more comfortable position and his heavy breathing grows softer, though it still remains uneven. I uneasily tap my foot, patiently waiting for a snippy comment to be fired back at me at any given moment, but all I can seem to hear in the rough silence that fell over us, are soft sniffles.

Henry finally turns back around to face me and I manage to finally acknowledge the messy locks of brown hair that protruding off his head in a variety of weird ways. I cease my tapping rather abruptly and release a single hand from my pocket. His stench assaults my nostrils and prompts me to cover my nose with my shirt as Henry lifts a single arm to reach behind his head, presumably to scratch an itching spot.

"I need to stay for a little bit." He says in a scarily soft tone "Don't have a cow or anything."

An eyebrow raises upward, though he can't exactly see it in the shadowy dark of my room. I purse my lips for a moment, before finally finding the words that I wanted to use.

"Why would I have a cow?" I question

"Just—" Henry sucks in an abrupt breath as his voice cracks "Just don't, okay?"

Without knowing what else to do, I reach out to touch him, maybe place a hand on his shoulder. But Henry was too quick and too stupid to realize what I was trying to do—I was too stupid to realize what I was trying to do. Shit, do I even know what I was trying to do in the first place? Henry shuffles away from my window and I, and makes his way over to my bed. Ungracefully, he stumbles about in the dark, his footsteps barely even there as he walks, which is something that I had never noticed about him; how light-footed he was.

Henry stops beside my bed and for yet another moment, everything is silent. I listen as he knocks my lamp off the nightstand, barely managing to catch it as he curses and hisses. And I listen as he places the damn thing back up on the stand and tugs the cord down. I cringe and look away at the sudden sight of light assaulting my vision, but do my best to blink away the pain so that I could successfully see the room around me. Sure, it takes a few minutes more than it should, but I managed to stare into the room without my eyes stinging and aching. I blink a couple more times and rub my eyes yet again, before I finally catch a glimpse of the leader of our friendly neighborhood skull-smasher. Holy shit, I mentally respond almost immediately. But, my physical response takes a bit longer than that, perhaps a few seconds, possibly a few minutes. Either way, my eyes widened in surprise all the same.

"Hen...ry..?" I ask, almost unsure of the person standing in front of me

For the first time in what felt like years, Henry didn't have some sort of jacket on, nor a shirt for that matter. But that wasn't what shook me to the core. What shook me to the core was the varying bruises and scars that littered his back, most of them rather obviously belt shaped and all of them at different stages of healing. Slowly, he twists his body so that he could look at me, giving me some form of a side-eye that reminds me of a wounded animal begging me to help it. Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks as he watched me with gritted teeth, his face riddled with shame and embarrassment as he finally turns himself around, drawing my attention to the thin scars that decorated his arms in sporadic and rather messy clusters.

"Don't have a cow." He mutters out, weakly

I honestly couldn't believe it. This boy that stood before me now, was not the Henry Bowers I grew up with. This wasn't the ruthless monster that destroyed random kids throughout Derry, Maine every day in order to release his rage. What stood before me now, was a stranger.

"I just need a place to stay the night." He continues, his voice cracking once more "Your place was the closest besides Vic's. But I can't let the guys see me like this."

I remain rooted to the spot, completely frozen in place whilst Henry explains himself, not bothering to mask the pure desperation that dripped off of his words. Henry fucking Bowers, a menace to society, a bully, a monster, a psychopath, now stood there beside my bed, in front of my nightstand, shaking in his boots like a little boy lost in the woods. Something awful must've happened to mess him up this good.

But what?

I blink owlishly, before glancing down at the floor beneath me as it finally clicks in my tired brain.

It was his dad, most likely. It had to be.

I feel Henry's gaze leave my body and finally look up, watching him as he tries to busy himself with looking over the various pictures and posters I'd put up that he'd seen a million times before. I watch as he turns around the room, having gone back to hugging himself as he visibly grows more and more anxious. But on the other hand, I did forget to give him an answer. Instead, I just wrapped an arm around my chest, and gripped my upper arm as I brought my fingers to my lips, taking my time just anxiously chewing on the nails that I'd been accidentally growing out once again. This was all so difficult to process.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What do other people do in this situation? Am I supposed to, like, hug him or something, like in the movies? How do I make him stop crying? What do I even do with all this newly acquired information? His dad beats him? I knew he was afraid of his dad but, like, this is a whole new level. What if it's not even Butch? Wait, if it is Butch, then who do I go to? Who can I tell? Does he want me to tell someone? Why couldn't he just go to Vic's house? Make it Vic's problem for fuck's sake! He can comfort people better than I can! Or maybe even Belch. Belch has his shit pretty together. He gave me a hug once, didn't he? Like, when I got him a car-warming decoration for Amy?

The frustration begins to build alongside my anxiety as I find my thoughts endlessly spiraling in a downward tornado that descends through a fiery quicksand sinkhole that leads into Lower-Hell.

I think my mom hugged me once, when I was small? Is a hug gonna do something for him? Maybe calm him down? Or maybe that was a dream. Was—

"You gonna fuckin' say something or what?" Henry suddenly snaps, bringing me out of my daze "You keep fuckin' staring at me!"

Henry eyes me in a warning manor as tears continued to trickle down his cheeks in a much more aggressive manor than before. I finally feel myself snap out of my thoughtful daze and straighten up, letting my arms drop back into my pockets as I tear my gaze away from him.

"Sorry, Henry." I apologize "I was thinking."

"Yeah, sure." Henry scoffs "Fucking whatever."

Henry walks back over to pass me once again, only this time he bumps shoulders with me. It was a small action, that finally managed to get me to wake up completely, and finally shift over into my much more defensive persona. I watch him after steadying myself from my backwards stumbling, noting how he harshly brushed my curtains aside, nearly tearing the rod down as he went to unlock my window and pull it back up.

"Hey!" I exclaim, still trying to keep my voice down "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere's else." He replies, harshly

"What do you mean somewhere's else?" I question, my tone equally harsh

"It doesn't fucking matter. Fucking forget it. Forget I fucking showed up. Forget it." He snaps

Henry fumbles with the lock in a fluster of tears and anger, coming damn near close to breaking it as he struggles to get it open. My legs finally unbuckle themselves and I go into autopilot. I roughly, but still quietly, thunder over to him with only two steps and grab his upper arm. It's just like that time that the guys and I had to pull him off that freshman who bumped into him at that one party, I told myself, I just gotta do what I did then. Before Henry can once again recoil from my touch, I manage to get one good tug in to drag him away from the window.

"Get off!" He exclaims

Henry goes to throw a wild punch at me, and I barely manage to avoid it. I release his arm as he stumbles a couple steps forward, his body trembling even harder than it had been as he releases a few hiccups and sobs. Now at a loss for what to do, I panic. Awkwardly, I fling myself at him and hook my arms around his neck, barely managing to not send the both of us onto the floor and myself personally into a very long grounding that would barely even last two days due to inconsistency. Not wanting to look Henry in the eyes, I bury my face in his shoulder and do my best to ignore the disgusting aroma of sweat and pit stink that was strong enough to make my face crinkle up and my eyes water. Henry doesn't know how to react to this, and opts to place his hands on my hips as he tries to push me off.

"Get off a' me! Fucking get off!"

He continues to repeat the phrase over and over again, the message remaining clear but the tone and words being used adjusting only slightly before he finally lets his voice crackle.

"Just get off," He hiccups out "Please let go."

Henry remains awkwardly hunched over thanks to my tight grip around his neck. His chest stutters against mine as he finally lowers his head in defeat, letting his forehead touch my shoulder. All of the sobs he'd been holding in for God-knows how long finally get released as he breaks down against me. So, I just remained there, holding onto him in an ironclad grip, once again frozen in place as I try to register my actions. I let out a restrained noise as Henry wraps his arms around my back in order to squeeze me as he sobs into my shoulder. But still I stand there, trying to figure out if I should say anything as I feel my shirt sleeve growing damp with tears and snot.

But, just as I finally prepare to mention it to him—to finally say something, Henry places a single hand on the back of my head and adjusts his hunched over position. I can hear his back cracking in response to his actions, but only because it seemed that by this point he had gone quiet. He lifts his head up and rests his chin on my shoulder as his grip on my [hair length] locks tightened to a point where it began to sting.

"You tell anyone about this," He begins darkly, now sounding like himself "And I'll kill you."

Henry lets my hair go and finally pushes himself upright and off of me. It was something small, that prompted me to finally let him go.

"You have a funny way of thanking me." I comment

I watch Henry as he twists his body away from me and rubs a single puffy eye with a loose fist. I reach up and tug at a dry spot on my sleeve, turning my head as I tug it outward so that the small bit of snot can enter my vision. I cringe in disgust, but try not to focus on it as I gently release it and glance over at the clock on my nightstand. It now read "Monday" along with today's date, and "12:29 a.m." underneath both things. Okay, yeah, I could get a few hours in, just gotta... fuck, what do I do now? I glance over at Henry, scanning him from head to toe as he once again busies himself with looking at my posters and pictures.

"So," I trail off, gathering his attention "You mentioned spending the night?"

Henry shrugs gruffly and replies to me with a small grunt before he scratches the top of his head. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that when he glanced at me for a brief moment, he looked slightly offended over the fact that I would suggest such a thing. But, he was probably more annoyed that I'd seen him at his weakest.

"If you stay, then you can take a shower." I slip in, "It'll help you feel better."

"What if I don't want to shower?" He mutters, childishly

I purse my lips and inwardly clench my teeth. If I had to take care of this asshole, after he showed up out of the blue and forced me to comfort him, then he was gonna fucking shower. Silently, I glare daggers at him and he simply glares back, challenging me with his eyes. After a moment of mentally running over my options, I finally break eye contact and make my way over to my dresser.

"I don't have any underwear, but I do have stuff you can change into." I tell him

Henry shouldn't mind not having underwear, I assured myself, Since he doesn't seem to wear any anyway.

Wait, what?

Not paying attention to him, I open the bottom drawer, which had a few shirts and a single pair of pants that I'd taken from my Dad on days when I had been waiting for my laundry to be done. Quietly I rummage around, looking for those specific items and release a small victorious exclamation when I finally pull them out. I clutch the blank, white T-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants in separate hands as I stand and turn. Henry watches me with crossed arms and a frown on his face whilst I just return him a small smile that I hoped conveyed my message of "I'm fucking crazy and if you don't shower I'm gonna show you how crazy I am". Thankfully, it seems that he gets the message when I chuck the clothes at him and he catches them both.

"Fine." He tells me "Fucking fine."

I shoot him a victorious grin as he makes his way over to my door, and it doesn't go away until he's shut my bedroom door behind him and presumably headed down the hallway to the bathroom. Exhaustion once again kicks in as my face drops back to its resting emotion, emptiness. Tiredly, I turn my attention back to my open dresser drawer and focus on tugging my shirt off. Grossed out, I drop it in the [favorite color] hamper that rested between the wooden dresser and my bookshelf. I rub my tired and droopy eyes and bend down, grabbing the first shirt I see and pulling it on. It was a purple shirt that didn't have any specific design to it, it was just as blank as the white shirt I'd given Henry.

Henry.
Henry, Henry, Henry,

"Henry shouldn't mind not having underwear? " Am I fucking serious right now?

Tiredly, I raise my hands and rub my imaginarily sagging face. I still needed to get sleep, I think the sleep deprivation is really starting to screw with me. Henry is gross, I literally just had to convince him to take a shower. Do I really want that? Do I really want to hit that? Am I sure? My legs carry me over to my bed and plop me down on it. In a defeated manor I roll over onto my bed so that I could properly lie and successfully pull the covers over my body without much effort. I release a soft yawn before I roll back over to the edge of the bed and reach up to shut the light off.

Click