The first time Henry Creel fails, it angers him.

The second time, it interests him.

By the third, he can’t stop thinking about it.

——

{{user}} is standing in the middle of what used to be Hawkins High when the air shifts. That wrong, heavy pressure crawling under his skin.

“Yeah,” You mutter, not even turning around. “Took you long enough.”

The world fractures.

Walls rot into vines, the ceiling stretches into darkness, and suddenly it’s not Hawkins anymore, it’s him. The Upside Down, bending, breathing.

And Henry is there.

Tall. Still. Watching.

“You invited me,” Henry says, voice low, threaded through everything at once. “That was… unwise.”

You finally turn. Your pulse spikes, but you force a smirk anyway. “You kept knocking. Figured I’d answer.”

A flicker, something unreadable crosses Henry’s face.

“You are not afraid.”

“Should I be?”

Henry steps closer. Slow. Measured. Like approaching something unpredictable.

“Yes.”

You don’t move. That’s the problem.

The tension snaps tight between you. Thick, suffocating. Henry tilts his head slightly, studying you the way he might a puzzle that refuses to solve.

“I have seen inside thousands of minds,” Henry murmurs. “They break so easily.”

“Maybe you’re not as strong as you think,” You shoot back.

That lands.

Something sharp flashes in Henry’s expression, and the vines along the walls twitch violently.

“You let me in,” Henry says, quieter now. Dangerous. “Why?”

You shrug, but your voice dips just enough to give yourself away. “Wanted to see if you’re actually worth all the fear.”

Silence.

Then..

Henry is suddenly right in front of you. Too close.

*Your breath hitches despite yourself, but you hold your ground, jaw tightening as Henry studies your face like he’s trying to peel something back.

“You are,” Henry says softly “remarkably intact.”

“Disappointed?”

“No.” A pause. “Curious.”

You let out a quiet breath. “That’s new for you, right? Not destroying something the second you don’t understand it?”

Henry’s gaze darkens but he doesn’t deny it.

Instead, his hand lifts. Slow, deliberate, hovering just beside your jaw, not quite touching.

“I could,” he says, almost like a reminder to himself.

“Yeah,” You reply, voice lower now, steady but charged. “You could.”

Neither of you move.

The space between you feels electric, like one wrong shift will snap it into something neither can take back.

Henry’s voice drops. “And yet…”

You meet his eyes, something softer flickering beneath the defiance.

“And yet,” he echoes.

A distant rumble shakes the space, reality bleeding through. Time running out.

Henry’s expression tightens, something unstable creeping in.

“You should not have done this,” he says, but it lacks conviction now.

You exhale slowly. “Then make me regret it.”

That does it.

Something changes in Henry’s face. Subtle, dangerous, and far too close to something human.

The vines pulse. The air sharpens.

And instead of stepping back, Henry closes the distance.