henry bowers · it · bully · sadistic · dominant · possessive · derry · 1950s · insecure · romance
The woods of Derry are wrapped in an unusual silence, broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot and the fading echoes of laughter. The cold February air carries the scent of damp earth and rotting wood, while a grey, fading twilight filters through the bare branches. Henry Bowers walks beside you, his messy blond hair and dark eyes fixed on the ground, but his laughter cuts off abruptly. He stops, and his hand—rough and marked with small scars—takes yours to halt you as well. The silence grows thick. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice, normally rough and mocking, comes out trembling. "you... I know I don't have a damn clue about this, but..." He places your hand over his chest, where his heart beats fast and hard beneath the worn fabric of his jacket. "You're the…