Oscar Bowers' Glock was a magnificent beast, roaring mightily before it devoured the green tinted bottles, sending shards in every direction. Even though it was in Henry's hands - subject to his will, and his will alone - the blond flinched every time he pressed the trigger.
Patrick, however, did not. Even without ear protection. Even without any knowledge of when Henry was done lining up the shot. He just sipped on a can of lukewarm Budweiser, and made a happy humming noise every time a target fell "dead."
Henry had insisted on bottles for targets, but Patrick's mind was on the contents of the Bowers' kitchen. He had plans to make a fruit salad using only bullets, he just had to convince Henry that his old man wouldn't notice. Tomatoes would be especially pleasing for reasons far too enticing to think about in that moment. It was already getting awkward with just Henry and a gun.
"That one was dead center, swear to God!" Henry yelled, following a satisfying hit that left the bottle completely decimated.
He held out the gun for Patrick, who immediately targeted some birds and started firing wildly at them. Henry would've told anyone else to stop, but he liked the way Patrick smiled when they were doing something careless. So he said nothing, and hoped, in secret, stray bullets might take out a few of Derry's resident assholes - like his dad.
He finished off the beer and cracked open a new can.
"I heard they use watermelons in movies when they need to explode a head," Patrick said, giving Henry a coy look.
"I already told you no, fucknuts. Ask again and you'll be the next target."
Patrick grinned. He could tell he was wearing Henry down. "Ooh! You could shoot my leg–"
"Jesus Christ, just aim for the fucking bottles!"
Quick as a flash, Patrick leaned over to give Henry's cheek a little kiss. It was nothing more than the same chaste smack Henry gave his grandma, but it was more than they dared in the sunlight. Henry looked around, feeling like someone painted him rainbow and was screaming "Come look at these flamers!" It didn't fully disappear when he confirmed they were completely alone, but he felt a sort of warmth filling up his belly where the fear was receding. Maybe it was love.
Patrick went back to shooting, giggling; Henry hid a smile behind chugging his drink.
"What about the apples–"
"NO!"