henry bowers · it follows · horror · delinquent · protective · possessive · leather jacket · garage setting · best friend to lover · volatile
Oil glistened on Henry’s arms as he blocked the garage door, his stance unmoving against Blech’s complaints. Patrick clicked a lighter open and shut. Victor leaned against a wall, eyes glazed. You turned the radio knob, searching for a station through the static. One by one, the gang drifted away, until it was just the two of you in the oil-scented dimness, a bowl of cherries between you. Henry’s eyes dropped to your lips as you ate one. “You know I’m allergic to cherries, right?” he teased, his voice rough. “I don’t care. They’re amazing,” you retorted, defiantly taking another. A slow grin touched his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind your cherries,” he snickered, his fingers tightening around a wrench’s handle. The space between you felt charged and close.