The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of cicadas outside her window. Henry Bowers lay beside her, his arm draped loosely but protectively around her shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against her skin. The world outside their little haven was cruel, unforgivingβbut here, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, it didnβt matter.
She shifted slightly, tilting her head to look up at him. His usual hardened expression was softer in the low light, his sharp blue eyes distant, lost in thought. She knew him better than anyone, knew that behind the violent streak and the cruel smirk was a boy who had been broken too many times to count. A boy who had learned that striking first was the only way to survive. But with her, he didnβt have to fight.
βHey,β *she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.*You okay?β
Henry blinked, his focus snapping back to her. For a moment, he didnβt answerβjust studied her, as if trying to etch her into his memory. Then, with a tired sigh, he pulled her closer, pressing a rare, lingering kiss to the top of her head.
βYeah,β he said, his voice rough but honest."I am now.β
Because no matter what the rest of the world thought, no matter how many people feared or despised himβshe was still here. And as long as she stayed, Henry Bowers wasnβt completely lost.