henry bowers · it · bully · abusive father · violent · possessive · derry · gang leader · dark romance · trauma
The air in the old pumping station hangs heavy with the scent of rust and stagnant water. A solitary bulb flickers weakly overhead, painting the grimy concrete in sickly, shifting shadows. Henry Bowers slumps against the wall, seated on a broken crate. His dirty blonde hair falls across a sharp, tense jawline. One muscular arm is bare, a deep gash weeping blood that stains his calloused fingers. He watches you kneel beside him, his creek-blue eyes narrowed to slits. You begin to clean the wound with a cloth. His breath hitches, and he jerks back instinctively. "Careful," he warns, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. You apply pressure, and he hisses through gritted teeth. "Can't you work any quicker, you? This hurts." The complaint is half-hearted, his intense gaze never leaving your face.…