Hellooo! I have a request for Henry Creel/001 x fem reader where they have known each other since before Henry got sent to the lab and years later they meet again whether it’s Brenner forcing the reader to work as a nurse in the lab or maybe she’s maxs mother or something? It’s up to you which one you decide! :)
❖ Request: Come, Little Spider
(Henry Creel/001 x Reader)
Tags: General, Slight Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard
Length: 14.4k
A/N: Sorry, I know this request took a LONG while, but I was halfway across the globe to catch The First Shadow in NYC, fell sick, and finally got well enough to finish it!!! It's been sitting too long in my draft pile so I'm gonna release it into the wild now...
Have fun reading this one and thank you for requesting, anon! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Credit: Dividers by saradika
Henry Creel Master List | Also on Ao3! | Writing Master Lists
⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹
It tickled him, at the back of his mind, of the way you’d seemed so familiar; yet he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Until he did, and the horror set in. His little spider, come to play, in a treacherous web not his to name
Your relationship with Henry hadn’t always been smooth sailing. Not that he'd made it any easier, with all the hurdles you had to jump through in your quest to befriend him. In fact, he'd fought you every step of the way.
Henry was reticent for a boy his age, preferring to observe others in the safety of the sidelines rather than to join in on whatever commotion seemed to be the highlight of the day. He never really felt at home with his peers, neither comfortable in their company, nor willing to shed the polite veneer he wore in an attempt to fit in.
Was it the way he'd been brought up? Because his family was new to town? Or perhaps, just the fact that he’d been a difficult child, right from the start?
No one truly knew, and no one truly understood why he’d turned out the way he did.
It was no secret that the patriarch of the Creel house was decorated, having served time in the war. Hawkins was a small town, so word got around quickly enough, which made it tricky to keep things under wraps. The news had spread like wildfire the moment they’d moved in, their names carried under whispered breaths and fleeting looks. As such, people gave him a wide berth everywhere he went, not wanting to get on his bad side, and not being brave enough to risk an altercation with someone from a military family.
There was an unexplained otherness to Henry that was both foreign and intriguing. To his credit, it had managed to turn a few heads his way, but most eventually strayed away due to his less-than-accommodating personality. Staying out of the public eye, shying away from the spotlight, and coupled with the oddities that separated him from the general populace, he was an outsider in every sense of the word. This resulted in cordial interactions at best, and outright avoidance at worst. Most people left him alone to his own devices, not wanting the same label to be slapped on them and alienating them from everyone else.
Society was harsh, as most would come to learn in school. Even so, Henry had no qualms with it, largely preferring to keep to his own company. It didn’t matter if they’d called him a ‘weirdo’ behind his back, or even if there really was something inherently wrong with him. That was how he preferred it. The fewer people poking into his business, the better.
And then, you'd stepped into his little bubble.
“Hey! Wanna partner up?” You'd chirped, beaming with a smile so bright that he'd instinctively backed up.
There was something infectious about your cheer. Not in a bad way— just something that he wasn't quite used to, especially when it felt like the full force of the sun was being directed at him in one go.
He blinked, wondering if you'd mistaken him for someone else. After all, why would anyone want to talk to someone like him?
“Sorry?” He said, glancing at you in confusion.
Words of refusal sat at the tip of his tongue, but it was clear that you weren't about to take no for an answer. The unexplained sparkle in your eye was all the warning he'd gotten before you'd promptly taken things into your own hands.
Grabbing his hand in yours, you'd dragged him over to your table before he could so much as splutter in indignation. He’d withdrawn into his shell soon after the incident, bewildered at your openness to an otherwise complete stranger. But the damage had already been done; you’d left a lasting impression on him.
It was innocuous when it first started. Having shared a class with him, you'd had a few interactions with the guy over time. Mostly greetings in passing, or the occasional exchange while awaiting the bell to signal the start of the next period. And while he seemed to keep everyone at an arm's length, Henry seemed like a pretty decent fellow.
Just… odd. Not that he seemed particularly interested in assimilating with his new environment either.
You’d always faced him with a smile, seemingly undeterred by the looks everyone had shot your way as a result. Noticing how he’d always seemed to be by his lonesome, you doubled your efforts, seeking him out every opportunity you found, much to his chagrin.
Even loners needed a friend at times, right?
He’d been cordial, at first, knowing that you were likely to turn around and stab him in the back just as everyone here seemed prone to doing, no thanks to the rumors surrounding his family’s troubled past— they’d escaped to Hawkins in hopes of a new start. But what he hadn’t accounted for was your sheer stubbornness, even when the initial hubbub about there being a new kid in town had long faded.
No matter his biting words or how scathing he’d turned in an attempt to dissuade you from approaching him, you hadn't been deterred.
Henry had even taken to employing the simplest trick in the book to distance himself when that hadn’t worked by simply pretending not to hear you whenever you started hovering around him. But eventually, even avoidance grew old. You’d only gotten bolder in retaliation, as if being louder would make him concede.
“Henry! Wanna join us for lunch?” You’d called out from the opposite end of the corridor one day, standing at the head of your little group, waving at him to catch his attention in the crowd.
Inconspicuously raising his head, his eyes drifted in your direction at the sound of his name. Noticing the way your friends had started whispering in their midst with slightly furrowed brows, Henry had a feeling that they weren’t exactly as welcoming as you were, despite your open enthusiasm. Hence, he’d assumed it a trick of the wind, ducking his head and continuing on with his path, your invitation falling through, perhaps for the best.
Not to be disheartened, you tried again the next time you saw him, having caught him while shuffling between classes.
Students crowded the corridor, either swapping their books out for the next period or on the way to their next destination. Spotting Henry by the lockers, you raised a hand in greeting as you approached, deciding to invite him to the cohort-wide hangout after school if someone hadn't already done so.
“Finally caught you! There's a gathering after classes end for the day at the—” You'd started off, only to be cut off with a wave of his hand and the squeaky creak of metal as the locker door swung open.
“Sorry, but could we do this another time? I'm running late for the next period.” He'd apologized, unloading his books from his locker before promptly turning away. Pointedly, in the opposite direction, leaving you standing awkwardly in the hallway. Your invitation had fallen flat, again.
Shaking your head, you'd simply written it off as unfortunate timing and carried on your merry way. No matter, you could always just invite him for the next one.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
It was clear that you’d wanted something out of him, and Henry was happy to ignore your existence for the most part. Until he couldn’t.
Your persistence, while admirable, had started to draw attention from both him and the others. Unsavory attention, in a manner that he knew best— malice. It tinged the air, whispering at the edge of his subconscious. How he knew, however, he couldn't tell. It was a skill he had, yet hadn't quite mastered; an omnipresent sixth sense, at best.
Of course, that dismissal hadn't been enough to thwart your efforts. No, because you were back at it again a week later, like hardy weed that even the strongest weedwhacker couldn’t tempt into submission.
“Hey, Henry!” A voice called out from behind him, in the same cheery manner he'd reluctantly gotten acquainted with.
His shoulders tensed. Yeah, he definitely recognized that voice. It was you, again.
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Your stubbornness, it seemed, knew no bounds.
“Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t seek me out that often, hm?” Snapping his book shut, he’d turned sharply in your direction, hoping that the bite would make you turn the other way.
However, your eyes had only lit up at that, for he’d finally acknowledged your presence.
“Why not?” You questioned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He’d given you an odd look then, much to your puzzlement. Why would someone go to such lengths?
You were impulsive in a way he didn’t understand. Headstrong, when most would falter.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the most liked around here. Poke your nose in places where it shouldn't be, and trouble will come looking.” He reiterated, hoping that you’d get the memo this time.
“Are you trouble, then?”
Henry blinked, not having expected that answer. Slowly, he replied after a moment's pause, the lone syllable falling hesitantly from his tongue. “...Yes?”
“Good, because I don't care.” You smiled, planting your feet firmly on the ground.
You weren’t budging from your spot now that you’d caught him and finally had his attention, even if he was keen on withdrawing it post-haste from the way his eyes darted almost nervously toward something behind you.
“You should.” He smiled, though not unkindly, as he pointed at the group that had gathered a ways away behind the both of you. “Not everyone is as nice as you are.”
You looked in the direction he was pointing at, noticing that there were a few people loitering about the corridor. They were watching your interaction with Henry with wary eyes, and with the slightly ominous buzz in the air, you had a feeling that they didn’t exactly have the best intentions in mind. However, they turned away, breaking eye contact the moment they'd noticed your gaze on them.
You looked back towards him then, slightly doubtful about his claim. “You don’t know that for sure.”
He tilted his head then, a wry look crossing his face. “Oh, but I do. Trust me.” Having said that, he distanced himself from you, walking away with a small shake of his head.
He could hear their thoughts, the ridicule and disdain, plain as day…
You watched as he retreated into the sea of students, alone like a piece of driftwood amid the tides. His words had given you some things to think about, but you’d heard his unspoken words all the same, expertly hidden between the lines: Stay away, if you know what’s good for you.
Something was bound to happen if you continued, and it was only a matter of time.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
By the fourth time you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him of your own accord, Henry’s brow furrowed.
Were you deaf? Had you not taken any of his warnings to heart?
He quickly surveyed the area around the hallway you’d somehow found him in, noticing how there wasn’t anyone present. You’d willingly chosen to approach him, again. He’d wondered then if you were stupid, or if you were truly oblivious to the dour way everyone had started to look at you the more you tried to talk to him.
People hadn’t liked him, and he was fine with that, for the most part. But Henry couldn't quite understand your actions. There was nothing to gain in attempting to befriend someone like him, a black sheep in a field of whites. Yet, somehow, he’d caught your eye. And, despite everything, here you were.
A thought flickered through his mind then. Maybe… it wasn’t an inherently bad thing?
Luck had never quite been on his side when it came to making friends with the students here, partially due to his own conscious actions of keeping everyone at bay. And… his internal turmoil with the unknown.
There was something within him. Something living, breathing, otherworldly— he didn't understand it, but he was cognizant enough to know that it was a part of him, much as he loathed to admit. It whispered into his ear, nudged at the peripherals of his mind, but it mostly lay dormant, nestled somewhere deep within him.
He sighed. It seemed that fate had other plans for him despite his efforts to thwart them.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed he could start by gaining your trust. And the first thing he could do, as his father had always taught him, was to be charitable. All he needed was an opportunity to act on.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long, for the perfect chance had presented itself the next day, just as he’d been exiting the classroom.
He’d caught sight of you then, walking backward out of the teacher's office with jittering steps. He paused, head tilted in curious inclination.
What… were you doing?
He watched as you staggered, shakily proceeding down the corridor after backing out of the office with your arms fuller than he’d ever seen.
You were holding papers. A bunch of them.
Were those handouts? And… they were starting to slip.
You were a subject rep, that was true. So this was just part of your duties, he supposed. But this was a stupid endeavor to attempt alone, nonetheless.
Wherever had your partner gone off to anyway? There was no way you were managing all of that on your own. You needed another pair of hands, and as much as he didn't want to intervene, it was hard watching someone struggle that much.
Quickening his pace, he headed in your direction.
Except, something must have gone wrong somewhere, for you’d swerved the moment he’d nearly fallen in step with you, nearly bludgeoning his head with the tall stack.
And with it, went your balance.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
You'd been making your way down the corridor when you accidentally bumped into someone, the impact sending you stumbling a couple of steps.
“Whoa, careful.” You heard someone speak as you felt a pair of hands reach out to steady you as you attempted to regain your balance while maintaining your white-knuckled grip on the stack of papers you were carrying.
Unfortunately, due to the heavy-set papers blocking your vision, you couldn't quite tell who it was from the voice alone. Not that you had been paying much attention either, considering how you were focused on trying not to trip over your own feet and send papers flying everywhere.
“Sorry, I hadn't meant to run right into you.” Came the voice again in a more apologetic tone once they'd ensured that you were firmly rooted to the ground.
The next moment saw the weight in your hands considerably lightening, revealing a familiar face as half the pile was lifted from your hands.
“And where are these supposed to be going?”
“Henry?” Your brows quirked in disbelief.
He shrugged. “More efficient, fewer walking accidents. Now, where are you headed?”
You stared at him for a moment, all speech having left your brain at his sudden appearance. With how much he’d been avoiding you as of late, it was a wonder how he was standing before you now. Actively… interacting with you, in fact.
Once you managed to gather your wits back together, you replied. “The handout box.” Though with the puzzled look he’d given you, you doubted that he even knew what to make of that answer.
Henry drew a blank. He'd never heard of something like that. What or where was that even supposed to be? The office, perhaps? Then again, he was a relatively new enrollment here, so instead of trying to figure it out, he opted for the simple, “lead the way.”
You’d both walked along the corridors side-by-side as you made your way down. There were a sparse few groups of students who still loitered about, dotting the area with specks of life. And whilst the hallway was relatively unoccupied, given that normal classes had already ended for the day, it was still quite the trek to your destination— the other adjoining building.
You glanced sideways, observing Henry as you both proceeded onwards in silence. You weren’t quite sure what to make of his sudden appearance; it was the last thing you had been expecting out there. Walking in absolute silence, however, was not your forte, so you decided to strike up a conversation with your surprising companion.
Though it seemed that Henry had already felt your eyes lingering on him, for he’d made a sound in his throat before you could speak. “Hm?” He’d caught you staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“People have been talking about you, you know? About what happened at your last school. That’s why everyone’s afraid of approaching you, to some extent.”
“I’m aware.” He’d answered simply.
“Does it bother you?” You asked as you both stopped before the door that marked your destination.
He shook his head. "No." He was already used to it anyway. “Consider its days numbered— it’s bound to die down, eventually.”
“Then I pity the calendar.” You laughed, using your foot to nudge the door open a little wider before elbowing yourself the rest of the way in.
You heard a small huff escape Henry as he entered the room after you. “And here we are.” You announced.
Surveying the classroom, he noticed the large box that sat atop a corner of the teacher’s desk. Was that the box you were talking about?
“Don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of the classroom block before.” He commented as he set the pile of papers down by the table at the front, watching while you worked at loading it into the handout box.
“Probably not. This is the seniors’ classroom. Though you should probably familiarize yourself with the school soon.” You replied as you loaded the last of the papers into their rightful place. “So… why did you help me anyway?”
Looking up, you noted the way he seemed to shuffle his feet in the same spot he stood, hesitant and slightly unsure. “You seemed like you needed a hand.”
But hadn’t he been avoiding you with all the times he’d turned you down?
The crease between your brows deepened as you came up empty. You couldn't get a read on him no matter how hard you tried, and it would be impolite to stare any longer than you already had.
That being said, you must have stared at him a little too hard while trying to puzzle him out, for his voice sounded again not a few moments later, laced with faint suspicion. “...And you should really stop doing that. The staring thing. It’s a little unnerving.”
“Well, since you helped me and all. I'd say that makes us friends at least, right?” You smiled, bumping a fist to his shoulder in mock camaraderie.
“We barely know each other.” He pointed out.
“But we are classmates! And you clearly need to be around more people. First step to everything, right?” Beaming, you held a hand out in offering. “So, friends?”
He saw the way your eyes brimmed in anticipation as you looked at him expectantly. And while he wasn't entirely against the idea… You certainly had an odd way of making friends, if he could even call it that.
Did you even know what you were signing up for? It was something that even he didn't know, himself. But perhaps things could be different this time around. Maybe… he didn't need to isolate himself from everyone and everything anymore. Not in the same way he did at his last school after the mishap.
The idea of it sounded good to his ears. Enticing, even. Maybe it was a good thing if someone could come to understand him.
Something in his subconscious stirred at the thought, moving in unnoticeable silence.
You could see hesitation flicker visibly across his face before his lips curled into a small smile. Taking your hand, he agreed. “Friends.”
And thus, a mutual agreement of friendship was made. Except, you hadn’t known the consequences that came with befriending someone like him. And you wouldn’t know, until much later.
But even then, it was little more than a vague suspicion that there was more to Henry than he'd initially led you to believe.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Being friends with Henry, of all people, was actually rather uneventful, all things considered. He had his moments, sure. But everyone had their moments. Perhaps it was the stress he'd been facing, or maybe you were just too optimistic for your own good.
Or maybe both, now that you thought about it.
Your eyes flickered downward at a small nudge against your arm. Henry had extended something towards you— an offering. It looked like a paper figure of sorts. Something that he'd been busying himself with for a while now.
You took it from him, slipping him your own paper creation in exchange as you brought it up for a closer look.
He’d folded you a kangaroo, intricate with neat edges, looking almost life-like, as if its minuscule self would jump to life at any moment as you held it within your palm. You felt slightly bad at how your little origami squirrel looked terribly amateurish next to his work of art. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with nimble fingers like he had, it seemed. Glancing over, you gauged his reaction, watching as he squinted at the squirrel, turning it every which way and that.
Confusion marred his face as he tried to make out what it was supposed to be. “And what’s this? A possum…?” He guessed.
“It’s a squirrel,” You sighed, shoulders drooping, “but sure, why not?” If he said it looked like a possum, then a possum it shall be. Not that it looked anything like what it was supposed to be, anyway.
“Hey, don't look so down. You just need more practice.” He laughed, accepting your failed paper amalgamation nonetheless.
And so went your little exchanges after school over time. Your continued interactions, once awkward, slowly bloomed into a solid and tangible connection.
Then, came the rumors that arose months down the road…
Some people who’d crossed paths with Henry had claimed to have witnessed disturbing nightmares, whilst others complained not about nightmares, but of shadows flickering at the edges of their visions.
People were losing sleep. Afraid. And it all seemed to revolve around the newcomers in town, despite it being months since the Creels had first arrived.
You half-wondered if the rumors surrounding him were true. But given the time you’d spent around him, you’d turned out fine, haven’t you?
You certainly hadn’t suffered from nightmares, and you hadn’t experienced unexplained sightings, capable of spooking the common folk either. But all the talk had made you curious.
You could always check up on him, right?
He’d left school early today, claiming to be ill, and you’d overheard murmurs in the corridor that perhaps he’d gone home if only to curse his next victim. And now that you were standing on his side of town with a box of brownies in hand, you wondered if whatever misfortune had befallen them would come to plague you, too, in due time.
You glanced around the area. This was the neighborhood he lived in? Wow. It sure was different, though he hadn't told you his address, just mentioned the street he was on in passing. Hence, you'd resorted to craning your neck through the fences of the apartment houses until you'd seen the name ‘Creel’ written on the mailbox. And as you peered past the bushes that had clearly been meticulously tended to, you spotted him standing alone off to the side near the back of his house.
He looked focused… on something that you couldn’t quite make out from where you stood.
Why was he just standing there?
“Henry?” You called out.
‘Shit.’ He cursed inwardly as the item of his focus fell back to the ground with a sharp clatter, no longer manipulated by psychic forces to defy the laws of gravity. He had half the mind to swipe it under a bush, to hide all evidence, had you been of the observant sort, but it was too late for that, as he could already hear your approaching footsteps and the sound of grass crunching beneath your feet.
Your voice had startled him, breaking him out of the trance-like concentration he'd lapsed into while attempting to test the limits of his abilities. By unironically levitating a rock he'd found near his house. Small, simple— not a problem at all, right?
Except, you were here.
“What are you doing alone out here?” You asked, drawing closer to his side.
You glanced in the direction he’d been staring all so intently at earlier, but there was nothing there; only a lone rock resting amidst the semi-grassy pavement.
He wasn’t just looking off into space, was he…?
Then, your gaze returned to him— to the trickle of red dripping from his nose.
A beat passed before you spoke again in a slightly hesitant manner. “Henry…? You're bleeding.”
Right, he’d forgotten about that.
Wiping the blood off his nose with the back of his sleeve, he turned to face you, innocently brushing off your concerns. “Nothing.” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he steered you away from the scene. “I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?”
“Just came here to give you these,” you said as you held the box you’d brought out towards him before continuing, “and to see if you were okay.”
And to make sure that you aren’t actually cursing people in their sleep…
Which, for some reason, you imagined the involvement of a voodoo doll of sorts. But, of course, you didn’t mention that. Still, you were slightly suspicious of how he had just been staring at literal space.
No weird-looking dolls in sight, however.
A faint wave of relief washed over you— your friend certainly wasn’t off cursing anyone in his near vicinity, that's for sure.
He glanced down, a look of puzzlement crossing his face.
You came all this way just to give him food? They did smell delicious though…
“I hope you feel better soon.” You'd beamed before turning back away, casting a quizzical look at the rock on the ground before you made to leave.
Had there been something interesting about it? It looked like any ordinary rock to you, though.
You shook your head, chalking it up to another one of the many peculiarities that seemed to surround him.
“Thanks.” He smiled, accepting the gift and breathing a little easier as he watched you leave with a parting wave. His fingers curled around the edges of the box, flexing in contemplation as he flipped a thought in his mind like one would a prized shined quarter— would it hurt, for someone else to know?
No. It'd probably scare you away. It was best that it be kept a secret. He didn’t want you to know about his powers.
Not yet, anyway.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
With practice, his abilities eventually grew stronger.
And while his results weren’t perfect, Henry had managed to gain some control and understanding over them with his repeated efforts. Extending his senses, he attempted to gauge the effective radius of his powers. Then, he’d moved on to bigger feats, testing his range on larger rocks and smaller creatures.
He'd levitated a heavy rock from a distance away, watching as it spun… and spun… and spun, the sound of faint droning filling his ears. He felt something strange creep up over him as he slowly fell into the trance-like state he’d oftentimes find himself lapsing into. An odd feeling that made itself known every once in a while.
He knew not what it was, only that it felt like a thin veil whenever it surfaced within him, falling gently over his mind. Curious, he’d tried reaching out to it, soon realizing that while it was susceptible to his nudging, it was ultimately unyielding in nature, refusing to break no matter how much he prodded and poked at it. Like spider-silk, he thought with fascination.
Just then, the bushes nearby rustled, alerting him that he wasn’t alone.
His eyes immediately darted in the direction of the sound. Spotting movement, he’d sent the rock hurtling without a second thought, whistling sharply as it cut through the air. He hadn’t been expecting anything, but the startled yelp that came soon after certainly did snap him out of the red-tinged haze that had settled over his mind. Something registered in him then that that hadn’t been a wild rabbit, like he’d been expecting.
In fact, it sounded very human.
—And very much like you.
He paled, very much wanting to retake the second thought he’d disregarded earlier. And if his past deeds had been any proof of the casualties he was capable of causing, he hoped that he hadn’t done too much harm.
Using his hand to part the bushes, he peered down at you from where you’d fallen onto the concrete, gingerly pressing your palm against the wound.
“Ouch. Where’d that big of a rock come from?” You grumbled, the projectile clattering a distance away.
He met your eyes as you retracted your gaze from it, a mumbled excuse escaping his lips. “Maybe one of the kids in the neighborhood was up to some mischief.”
Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the most convincing lie, considering how the Creel’s estate was secluded in its own little corner of the main street.
“Hi.” You greeted him with a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace than your usual optimism.
Blood was starting to trickle from the wound, and it did look pretty gnarly when you'd gingerly lifted your hand up a smidge for a look. He'd gotten you good— a jarring gash between your neck and your clavicle.
‘That'd probably need stitches,’ he thought.
Then again, what were you even doing here on a Saturday morning?
His eyes drifted slightly away from you to where a couple of books had fallen onto the pavement.
Ah. He’d forgotten that he'd been the one who'd invited you here, the two of you having made plans at the start of the week to hang out at his place over the weekends.
“That looks nasty.” He said as he pulled you up, holding you steady as you staggered. “Come on, we can get it cleaned up inside.”
Leading you inside, he sat you by the table before pulling out the emergency first-aid kit stashed beneath the sink.
“Sorry, this'll sting.” He'd apologized, pressing balls of cotton to the wound to stem the bleeding.
He hadn't meant to, truly. While he hadn't lost control, it had been an instinctive reflex when he'd sent the projectile flying your way.
“Never knew younger kids were into slingshotting rocks these days.” You commented as he worked.
Surely the kids who lived in this neighborhood hadn't made a habit of randomly throwing rocks in the direction of every bush that so much as rustled in the wind? It was dangerous, for starters.
Henry made a sound of acknowledgment at that, but there was an inexplicable hint of regret that seemed to mar his features even though he supposedly had nothing to do with the incident.
He may not have said much, but you could tell that there was something else going on.
And as you watched him gingerly thread needle to skin, you wondered just where he'd picked up something like that. He seemed awfully used to the motions, and it wasn't exactly a common skillset for people your age to have.
“How did you learn to do this?” You asked, gesturing to the bandages and the medical supplies laid out before you.
“My father was in the military. He often came back with wounds that needed redressing, so he’d taught me how to.” He shrugged.
Henry said nothing of his father’s past actions. Of how he was capable of seeing more than he should. Know things that he shouldn’t have known.
People’s deepest, darkest secrets, he found, had been what enraptured him. It was as intriguing as it was profane to see the horrendous acts that some people had once committed in the past, only to hide them behind a perfectly crafted facade that they showed everyone.
Or maybe he just had a twisted sense of humor.
After putting the last stitch in and cutting the thread, he'd dressed it with a bandage before declaring with a smile, looking proud of his own handiwork. “All good now. Though you should get it checked out at the hospital later, just in case.”
“Thanks, Henry.” You thanked him, tilting your head in question as he got out of his seat, waving for you to follow him.
“Come on.” He’d called out from somewhere above the stairs as he disappeared around a corner.
And follow him up the winding stairs, you did.
“There isn't much here, but make yourself at home.”
He'd brought you up to the one place he felt at peace, the attic, the main reason why he'd even invited you to his home in the first place. An offer that you'd been quick to accept despite his initial hesitations.
He knew that the spiders he'd kept as company weren't exactly everyone's cup of tea, so he hadn’t been sure when he’d extended that particular invitation. But now that he was sitting on the floor and watching as you moved about his space with apparent glee, he was glad he did.
His eyes followed you as you wandered the small area he'd claimed as his own, something unreadable hidden in the shadows of his gaze.
He observed the way your fingers drifted over the small glass bottles he’d collected, once hidden under the wooden floorboards, in an almost reverent manner. The way your face lit up, as you carefully held one up to the light, watching the way the spiders within skittered in their small makeshift terrariums. You loved them too, he realized.
“Call it a hobby of mine.” He'd explained when you'd faced him with marvel in your eyes, asking about his collection of jarred specimens. Especially since the ones he'd kept were not the sort that people usually kept as pets. Black widows hardly made good pets, but somehow, he'd seemed to have made it work out in his case.
“Look at them go!” You gushed.
They were oddly docile as they crawled along his arm, their spindly legs waving as they scuttled atop the tip of his fingers, standing proud and tall.
“They seem to like you an awful lot.” You observed. “Maybe because you're a lot like them.”
Something tickled at him then, an odd fuzzy feeling that he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps this was what people felt to be understood, he realized, even if just a little.
And as your eyes passed the many sketches he'd made of his spiders, you had a feeling that he didn't exactly go around showing these things to just anyone. Gradually, you realized that you'd reached a mutual understanding with Henry.
Or at least, you’d like to think so.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Things changed a couple of months later when your continued presence beside Henry was noticed, and not in a good way.
Word about you hanging around the oddball had spread, and while you didn’t quite care about what others had to say about you either way, the same couldn’t be said about people who were unsettled by the rumors. A faction that had only rapidly increased in size over time. And in some sense, severity.
Things had only seemed to spiral, unbeknownst to you both.
Some students had uncovered what happened back in Henry’s old place of dwelling, drawing speculations about what happened, although no one truly knew for sure. You’d overheard a few of those that had been circulating the school while you’d moved about the campus. And you had to admit that while some of the hypotheses were plausible, most of them were outright ridiculous with how far-fetched they sounded, even to your ears.
Some said that Henry had been a monster in human skin, while others claimed that he’d caused tragedies to befall those who’d wronged him and his family, which only caused people to give him a wider berth. A witch, perhaps.
That had made you raise an eyebrow. Because, really? While odd, he wasn’t exactly prone to getting a black cat as a pet, stirring potions in a pot while hexing the next person who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Although the thought that crossed your mind did make you chuckle.
Henry with a big floppy witch hat and an awfully sharp scowl on his face? Now, that was interesting. Maybe you should make him wear one during Halloween just for a good laugh.
But as uncaring as you were of the consequences that came to associating yourself with him, it eventually caught up to you one day, when you inevitably found yourself singled out and surrounded.
Thank god for Henry, for he'd happened to be in the area when that happened.
He'd spotted the little entourage surrounding you from across the field. He hadn't thought much of it at first, assuming that you'd just hit them up to extend an invite to another group hangout or something.
After all, hadn't you done the same to him back when he was still relatively new?
However, he soon noticed that something wasn't quite right when the group hadn't dispersed even after a while. He didn't like the way they were crowding you. And although their backs were to him, he could see the strained smile you wore.
He'd picked up the pace then, heading towards your location.
“Hey, you alright?” He called out as he approached.
However, the little group that had gathered around you instantly scattered the moment he got within a meter's radius.
His brow furrowed. Odd.
They were actively avoiding him, giving him wary side eyes as he passed, almost as if afraid, and that usually meant one thing.
“Henry!” You'd exclaimed upon his arrival, your once-strained smile morphing into a genuine one, although it did little to hide your apparent unease.
Unease. With what? He'd never seen you so perturbed, until now.
“What did they want with you?” He questioned, eyes narrowing at the mark he'd noticed your arm now sported.
Looked an awful lot like a handprint, didn't it?
“Just a word of warning, nothing serious.” You replied.
He saw a flicker of guilt flash past your features before it was gone like the wind. That hadn't been the whole picture; he could tell. And you were being cagey about it, something you never really did. Those guys definitely hadn't been here just to have a conversation.
You looked around warily before bringing a hand up to whisper into his ear, changing the topic before he could pry further. “Word out there is that you’re cursed, you know. They think you cursed them, robbed them of their sleep. It's just an unproven theory, though.”
He’d laughed at that, as if it were the most inane thing he’d heard all day. “Cursed? Me?”
But there was something in his laugh that seemed to have fallen flat; something knowing and resigned. Maybe… this hadn’t been the first time something of a similar vein had happened.
With a wry shake of his head and a humorous quip, he’d instantly shot down your doubts. “No, of course not. I’m just a boy, not some eldritch being as people are so keen to label me as.”
Realization dawned upon you then, grimly setting into your features. “You already know about the rumors, don’t you?”
He’d shared an equally resigned smile with you. It was something that he'd long been aware of, and he had his own way of dealing with unsavory parties.
“Did they do this then?” He'd reached for your arm, fingers brushing over the reddened skin that was starting to bruise from the force they'd used to grab you with, he assumed.
Such marks didn't belong on you.
There was a rueful look in his eye that was masking something unintelligible, something that you couldn’t quite make out. A new untenable factor… that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end when his movements against your arm finally paused.
The newfound glint in his eye as he looked up at you… It was unnatural. Uncanny.
Haunting.
He’d uttered a question then, parsed kindly despite the coldness that seemed to undulate beneath it by a hair’s breadth. “Did you know them? …Who were they?”
His tone was laced ever so thinly with a sliver of ice, something that you hadn’t quite known him to be capable of.
Since when… was your friend capable of harboring such darkness?
Something funny scratched at your brain. There was an unmistakable feeling of something foreign and different about him at this moment.
Why did Henry feel so far, even while he was so close at hand, standing merely within arm’s reach?
You’d shaken your head, adamant on keeping your silence. Perhaps you’d done it to protect him, but little did you know that it had only sent Henry on a mission.
The presence at the back of his mind rose then, roused by fear or conviction, he wasn’t sure. But this time, he welcomed the fog that seemed to reach out to his consciousness, the tendrils of red death, as he’d come to know.
He'd hurt you once, though it had been largely due to an oversight on his part, but he wasn't about to sit by and let it happen again.
No, he'd smiled. Not under his watch. You wouldn't be harmed because of him, much less by fools who went after the people around him because of their own cowardice.
So the spider spun his web— a tensile web so tightly woven that it snared anyone in its path with vindictive fervor.
He’d gotten a close look at one of them as they fled and committed their face to memory. Finding them was going to be easy enough, he thinks. And like a gift from the heavens, the scales tipped in his favor mere hours later.
He'd found them loitering around the side of the field by the gym, alone. School was out, which meant that there wouldn’t be anyone missing them anytime soon.
Bingo.
“Hello.” He greeted them, facing them with a smile so disarming that they’d started to second-guess their initial accusations against him. “Do you happen to know the way to the science room?” He'd asked, easily playing the part of an innocent new freshman.
All color seemed to drain out of their faces at his sudden appearance.
He'd heard it then. An exclamation hissed under a breath. “What's the monster doing here?”
A panicked whisper. “Shh, he'll hear you.”
A fearful murmur. “Did you think…. Did you think he heard us back there?”
It brought about a morbid sense of amusement within Henry when he realized that he barely had to do anything to invoke such a response in them.
Didn't even have to lift a finger. Yet.
He watched as they exchanged fleeting glances with each other, before their eyes landed back on him, guarded and wary. A shaky smile formed on one of their faces, but even Henry could tell that it was forced.
An act of futile bravery.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He supposed there was some truth to the saying, so often used.
“So… rumor has it that…” His voice dropped, his tone falling flat as he spoke of their transgressions against you. Against him. All the baseless accusations that had built up over time, only to finally boil over in a cacophonic tide.
“We meant no harm! It's just all in a bit of fun, really!”
His thoughts flashed back to the way he'd found you. The blooming bruise that stood starkly against your skin— something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. Least of all, with him as the cause of it.
“Fun?” He'd echoed, his tone passive as he stared them down.
The corners of his lips gently lifted as he quirked his head in a mocking manner. “Was it fun? Tormenting someone beneath you?”
“Tell me, did you enjoy it?”
A minute distortion rippled through the air at the rise of his fingers. Hand outstretched, he’d sent them screaming, raising horrific visions in the day. He watched as they clawed at their eyes, moaning pathetically at his feet.
Satisfaction ebbed through his veins as he watched them writhe, trapped in their own personal hell.
Could he have done more? Certainly.
He'd thought about snapping their bones, bending them every which way in an act of vicious mutilation.
The presence in his mind wanted it, craved it, yearned for it. It itched at the back of his mind, insistent and hungry. An urge so tangible that it almost felt like his own, so much that it almost convinced him.
But that wasn't him.
Or was it?
No.
He curled his hand into a fist as he lowered it. This was a warning, a taste of his potential.
And then, he was gone.
Henry Creel had vanished the day after.
With not a word to be heard, and nowhere to be seen, it was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air. But even with the subject at the heart of all the sprawling rumors gone, it didn’t cease. People had stopped coming after you, sure, but you were no wiser than they were when it came to his whereabouts.
You did, however, notice a difference ever since Henry’s disappearance. The small group of upperclassmen that had approached you that day had started religiously avoiding you, even making a point to keep their heads down whenever you were around, whispering about something under their breath. The way they regarded you with wary eyes and an equal dose of nervousness told you that they were afraid.
But, why?
You furrowed your brow as you passed them, catching a few muffled words. Between the hushed, panicked, and fearful tones that brushed past your ears, you heard something… something that sounded oddly like a prayer.
Word of the incident that had taken place in the field that day spread through the town soon after, accompanied by news of the fact that no one had seen anything of the Creel boy ever since. You’d only come to know of the bigger news when it’d gone on the news a couple of weeks later, one that overshadowed the entire fieldtime mishap that had transpired one dreary afternoon.
The TV screen crackled with static as the tabloid news headlines flashed before your astonished eyes, the audio drifting in and out in intermittent measures as the report was delivered live on air.
Victor Creel had been arrested for the first-degree murder of his family, only to be incarcerated in Pennhurst after the court had decreed him not guilty by reason of insanity. The feed then switched to the footage of workers boarding up the now abandoned Creel house, followed soon after by interviews of witnesses and ‘victims’ that had fallen prey to the ‘demon’ that the patriarch had claimed to have brought this calamity upon his household.
Good riddance, some might have thought. Finally, an end to the madness.
But the ‘victims,’ the ones who'd cornered you, were hesitant in their testimonials. Almost as if they'd forgotten what had happened despite having lived through the ordeal.
Similarly, no one truly knew what had transpired in both cases.
And yet… not a word was spoken in farewell. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before he left. Then again, how could he when he had been hospitalized in a coma after the tragedy that had taken place?
Like the flickering embers of a dying fire, the rumors, as did the memory of him, faded into the background as the town gradually moved on. The ‘demon’ had been put to rest, and the townsfolk were more than happy to put the harrowing series of incidents behind them, but you?
Your gaze shifted to the paper spider that sat by the windowsill, basking under the golden rays of the setting sun behind the protection of the clear glass panes.
You’d brought it into the safety of your room after it had caught your attention one morning before the stirring gales could whisk it away, a tiny black shadow in the corner of your vision on an otherwise sunny day. An unexplained offering that had appeared shortly before his disappearance, crafted with handiwork that you distinctly recognized— Henry’s.
After all, who else was capable of such neatly pressed edges and clean-cut folds? A picture-perfect recreation of an arachnid. Small, unsuspecting, and… oddly enough, you had a feeling that whatever had gone down with the Creels on the day of the massacre wasn't entirely as the news had made it out to be.
Even so, you hoped Henry was alright, wherever he was now.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Years later, in an establishment far outside of town. A man stood before the window, hand pressed against the glass as he stared out into the distance. He watched as the armored trucks pulled in for the day, and the people beneath busied about like ants.
He'd wondered often, during days when time seemed to stagnate. Whatever happened to that one friend of his in the past that he used to play with? The stupid little girl across the neighborhood who should have known better, who would never fail to greet him with infectious cheer and an equally stupid smile, took the time to listen to him speak, and while others called him names, she didn't look at him as if he was just that.
—A monster wearing the skin of a human.
And as if to add insult to the wound he never knew he had, the girl shared his fascination with spiders, something that would have deterred most. He hadn't thought much of it at first, but over time, he'd slowly come to realize that he'd missed it.
Perhaps his time apart from society had made him yearn for someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t a cold white plaster wall, or blinding ceiling lights. A piece of the past to cling to whenever his mind tired of the countless experiments the lab had subjected him to.
“Peter.” A stern voice sounded, snapping him out of his reverie.
He drew his eyes away from the bustling scene of men unloading cargo beneath the glass panels that separated them.
Martin Brenner.
A flicker of distaste rose up within him at the dictatorial tone that commanded his attention. One that he unfortunately answered to like a well-trained lapdog.
It had become second nature in his time here. Part of a survival instinct ingrained in him so deeply that it would take a lot, and then some more, to shake off.
Whatever crumb of nostalgia had surfaced within his eyes at the thought of the past, he’d made the conscious effort to quash before it could be seen. It wouldn't do to give the head scientist any more ammunition than he already had.
Henry had learnt his lessons in captivity, and he’d learnt them well. Enough to be kept openly on a leash. It was a short one, nonetheless, being forced to play the role of caretaker. But he would take anything after all he’d been through.
Anything to feel even the slightest bit human again, even if he now knew that he was not.
He was more. Far more.
And when he finally turned, eyes drawing up to meet the man’s sharp gaze, he was no more than Peter Ballard. Docile, meek, and perfectly ready to bend at the crook of the Doctor’s finger, lest he, too, meet the fate of being discarded, like many of his other ‘brethren’.
A failed test subject, he was not. After all, he had the ink to prove it, didn’t he? In big bold font, his skin marred eternally by the black numbers that bore his name to the world.
The cuff of his sleeve shifted as he clasped his hands behind his back, standing at attention under Dr. Brenner’s observant eyes.
The index case.
His first lesson after getting processed had been patience. Gone was the rashness alongside the young boy he’d once been.
He watched silently with an unreadable expression as the head scientist surveyed him, recognizing the calculating glint in the older man's eyes all too well.
Was he in trouble? Had he done something to garner his displeasure? Oh, no. He held the man’s gaze as it shifted towards his arm, to something… behind him?
He tensed, but his worries were soon put to rest as the older man plainly stated with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re dripping blood everywhere, son.”
Drip. He felt the wet trail of blood sliding down the length of his arm, and the unmistakable feeling of wet fabric sticking to his skin. Sticky and uncomfortable.
How had he not realized it?
It was a troubling thought, but perhaps he had already gotten used to it, desensitized by his many years here. Long enough to see his attending doctor’s once full head of brown wash out into silver.
He felt as the doctor’s fingers curled around his lower arm, lifting it closer so that he could inspect the injury.
A wide gash had been opened down the side of his arm, but the sight of blood, so usual an occurrence, no longer fazed either of them.
Henry only tilted his head in a questioning manner, as if Dr. Brenner held the answers to his curious plight.
When had he sustained this injury? The last experimental ‘class’ he’d been overseeing, perhaps?
He then watched as Brenner took the handkerchief he always carried around out of his breast pocket, as pristine and immaculate as the lab he worked out of, and pressed it against the open wound. And although he shook his head in exasperation, he didn’t seem to mind the fact that Henry was bleeding all over the white cloth.
“Go get it checked out. It wouldn’t do for the children to see their favorite caretaker all bloodied up now, would it?” He said. “What sort of example would that set, hm?”
His second lesson had been compliance, for he soon learnt that going along with the dear old doctor’s whims tended to make things go more smoothly. Though Henry's cooperation had not come easily in the early days, and he did love to make Brenner work for it.
Oh, the lengths to which this man had tried to win his trust back then. He missed it, even. Foolish as he’d been to listen to the words of a snake who’d masked ‘ambition’ under the guise of ‘acceptance’. But he was young, impressionable, and… No. He promptly put a stop to that thought. Ruminating over the past wouldn’t change anything.
He lifted his eyes from the red-stained cloth after pressing a firm hand against it to hold it in place. Brenner was still waiting for an answer.
“Of course, Papa.” He smiled. Even though stepping a foot into that accursed room was the last thing he wanted to do. But it would make things go much better if he did, wouldn’t it?
Hence, he made his way to the Infirmary. A room he'd been acquainted with so familiarly that he could probably still locate it even in his sleep.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Opening the door, he was greeted concurrently by a bright smile, a well-lit room, and an equally chipper greeting before he’d even gotten a foot in.
“Hi! How can I help?” said a voice he didn't recognize. There was a short pause, followed by the faintest utterance of an “oh,” which Henry assumed was because the nurse on duty had finally caught sight of the bloody state of his arm.
He squinted his eyes slightly at the change in lighting.
This was new. When did the lab get a new nurse?
No matter. He did hope that the nurse wasn’t squeamish, at least; it would make for a short tenure.
The nurse’s initial smile had slipped as her eyes lingered on his silhouette, but she quickly gathered herself, waving him in as she slipped on a new pair of nitrile gloves. “Come on then, have a seat. Let’s have a look at that, shall we?”
He cast a cursory glance at the newcomer in vague curiosity as he settled into the patient's chair.
A new face. How rare.
Dr. Brenner wasn’t exactly known for his penchant for adding or approving new personnel into the lab, considering the high confidentiality and security that seemed to surround this place. Not to mention how off-record everything that went on here was. And, if anything, Henry had prided himself on knowing everyone on the rotations. Or at least, those on shift duty that he often interacted with.
One could never be too careful, and it was always better to keep a wary eye out.
Snip.
He watched as the scissors cut through the sleeve that had unfortunately adhered to the wound with a slight grimace, making a mental note that he'd need to put in a request for a new set to be provided after he was done here. He only had so many shirts he could go through, after all.
He then felt hands gently maneuver his arm as the nurse on duty got to work assessing his injury. His gaze fixated on the wound, now that he could actually take the time to see the damage that had been wrought on his flesh, its edges puckered and angry from how long he'd left it untended.
“Good that you came in when you did,” the nurse murmured as she disinfected the wound, “any longer, and it probably would've gotten infected.”
He made a non-committal sound in response.
If only, then perhaps he would have an excuse not to show up for duty. But knowing Dr. Brenner, he would never let something like that happen, much less to a prized specimen of his.
Henry's eyes flickered up, unblinking even as stitches were placed into his skin, suturing the wound shut with practiced ease. He watched as the nurse worked, his gaze lingering for a second more, even after the nurse drew away to set the soiled medical tools aside after the additional bandage was snipped, and the rest secured.
It was only when the nurse turned back to address him with a smile on her face did he finally look away, breaking the line of contact.
“Not the best work you’ve seen, I’m sure, but it’ll function well enough. Keep it dry, and it should heal fine.” She said.
“No, it’s quite alright.” He replied, getting off the chair he’d been perched on.
And as he left the room with a murmured word of thanks under his breath, a niggling feeling tickled at the back of his mind. There was something familiar about the nurse. Something he couldn’t quite place.
Something…
“Hen— Peter, wait!”
He froze, the sharp call of his name instantly stopping him in his tracks and snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to face the nurse who had popped back out from behind the closed door with the customary smile he always wore. “Yes?”
“Uh…” The way she had faltered hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He watched patiently as she seemed to fumble with her words for a moment before finally holding something out for him to take. “You, uh… forgot your ID card.”
Had it fallen from its clasp on his belt loop?
He was slipping, he realized.
“Oh. Sorry, I must have… dropped it earlier.” He apologized, confusion flashing across his features as he reached out for it.
He was certain that his ears weren't playing tricks on him, but the first syllable that had been uttered sounded an awful lot like his real name, hadn’t it? One he hadn’t heard in years.
He glanced down at the access card that he always carried around his person. ‘Peter Ballard,’ his name, as was written, followed by his security access clearance, his position, and the bar code that denoted his identity, ending with his signature. Not a single mention of his original identity.
A puzzling thought crossed his mind.
Why did the nurse know his name? Most of the staff didn’t know it, or were otherwise sworn to silence. But for someone new to know of it? Had she read his file?
No, that can’t be right. Dr. Brenner had kept that firmly under lock and key, hidden somewhere well-guarded within his personal office alongside the other important documents that most didn’t even know existed.
Which begged the question, who were you, really?
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
It didn't really click until he'd seen you again, in the rainbow room where he was almost always permanently situated. You'd walked in, dressed in all white, as per regulation— a uniform much like his own.
His thoughts stilled as he met your eyes from his station, curiosity pooling within its depths. However, you’d frozen a few steps in, your hand still on the handle of the door, the moment you’d caught sight of him in the room. He could see the recognition in your eyes.
Well, well, weren't you the new nurse he'd seen the other day?
He watched as you took to position, falling in step with the children who swarmed around the apparent newcomer, greeting them warmly with a smile. The way you’d interacted with them told him that you weren’t exactly a green hand in this field.
One of the kids had even laughed, sharing what seemed like an inner joke between you two. Something that had surprised even Henry, a constant in their lives. A small huff of laughter that spoke millions in a place where tension often ran high, and fights broke out more often than civil conversations.
You were a highly amiable individual then, he noted, waiting till the crowd of children slowly dispersed back to their little groups scattered around the room.
Then, keeping his eyes trained ahead, he started up a conversation with his shift partner for the day.
“So…” he started, “not the new residential nurse, I take it?”
“No, I was just standing in for the nurse who went on break.”
Ah. An orderly, then? Perhaps he’d seen you in passing?
There was an air of nervousness around you now that the two of you were left standing in a corner. Gone was the relaxed nature you had when interacting with the children in the room. You seemed almost… wary. On guard. About what, he couldn't tell.
“That was some pretty neat stitchwork for someone who isn’t one. Whoever taught you must've been good.” He mused.
“What can I say, I was inspired.” There was a slight wistfulness in the way you smiled as you gestured to his arm. “How’s the wound?”
“All healed up thanks to you. Are you sure you weren—” He'd started, only to be cut off by a startled yelp that instantly caught both of your attentions.
You both turned towards the source of the sound, alert, noticing that some of the children had gathered around a corner, huddled in a small circle. Oddly enough, they even seemed to be whispering amongst themselves.
Oh dear, the scientists hated it when the children congregated like that, didn’t they?
Henry could already hear the telltale whirr of the camera as it picked up on the activity in the room.
“What's going on here?” He called out as the two of you approached the small group, raising a few heads in the process.
A few of the children parted from the close-knit circle, pointing at something, allowing the two of you to see what lay, or rather, stood, in the center.
A spider skittered atop a pile of building blocks, seemingly alarmed at the presence of the gaggle of children it had been surrounded by. It had its fangs raised, clearly feeling threatened by all the activity.
“Funny creature.” One of them had chirped.
“Never seen anything like that before…” Came a whisper from the sidelines.
You blinked. Had these kids not seen a spider before? Then again, you supposed that made sense considering how sterile and clean the entire lab seemed to be. There hadn’t been a single bug in sight despite how this building was situated in the middle of literal wilderness. Pest control must have made a killing here, now that you thought about it.
Another one of the older kids had a hand out, eyeing it in a less than inquisitive manner. Glancing between the child’s intent stare and the small critter, you drew the blanks together. It reminded you of the way people looked at specimens before they dissected them… Not a fun thought to have, especially when such cruelty was placed in conjunction with a child who looked no less than five.
The spider seemed to jerk in its spot, its legs skittering frantically as it spun on the spot. As if it had lost its own sense of gravity despite being on solid ground.
“Okay, let’s get the spider out of the way.” You stepped in then, moving in front of the child and blocking off their line of sight. You scooped it up without so much as a second thought, completely oblivious to the way Henry had taken to staring at you as if you'd just grown a second head at the action.
He'd only known one other person who hadn't seemed to fear or have an instant kill-on-sight switch installed in them upon spotting an eight-legged critter like that, venomous or otherwise— you.
However, he dismissed the thought before it could form.
That couldn’t be right, and he knew it. Far be it from him to let his buried thoughts creep up on him like that. You were supposed to be miles away from the goings-on here, as far as he was concerned.
“Spider?” Echoed a child.
“What’s a spider?” Asked another.
You saw the owl-eyed looks they were giving it as you held it in your hand. Bringing it closer to them, but letting it remain a safe jumping distance away, you watched as some heads edged closer to get a curious look at the spindly creature sitting docilely within your palms.
Henry had recognized it for what it was easily enough. It was a widow; a northern black widow, judging from the two red spots on its underbelly.
Moving with familiarity, he raised a finger, bringing it close to your palm.
“Here, let me.” He said, watching as it instantly scuttled up the proffered limb as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Something in him settled with a sigh as he took a moment to admire the little creature with the same reverence he’d once handled his own widows with. It’d been a long time since he'd seen one, and perhaps he’d missed it, too, in a way.
He tilted his head when he noticed the way your eyes seemed to linger on him and the spider. The way your lips had parted, as if wanting to say something more, only for you to swallow the words that had been at the tip of your tongue at the last moment.
“Stay with them. I'll handle it.” He reassured you, nodding towards the gathered crowd of curious children.
It wasn't till he stepped out of the room, leaving you to sate the children's piqued curiosities, that it'd hit him— a rising suspicion he couldn't quite quash despite his best efforts.
What if you hadn't been as far removed from all of this as he'd initially been led to think?
The doctor had given him his word, back when he had yet to become ‘papa,’ that the friend he'd left behind was alive and well. And would continue to be, as long as he complied.
But Papa was known to speak in half-truths, wasn't he?
Walking down the corridor in search of the nearest window, a crease formed between his brows as he mulled over the possibility of it.
For starters, the new orderly had gone by a different name from yours, which clearly meant that despite whatever chord she seemed to strike in him, she was clearly of no relation to you. But those eyes that seemed to see through him spoke of a different tune.
Unless… Had they crafted a new identity for you, as they did for him? Turned you into yet another orderly that no one thought to give a second glance to?
No, but even then… the two of you had different depositions. The orderly carried herself differently from the you in his memories, faded as they were; the grim set to her jaw, when she thought no one was looking, a far cry from his ever-spirited companion.
Henry lifted the window pane, watching as the black widow crawled off his finger, retreating back into the safety of the overhanging canopy.
But even so, he couldn't discredit the odd manner in which you'd regarded him, the momentary slip-up, and the spider… which he'd just released back into the wild. His lips thinned into a frown as the pieces started to form.
Clouded with uncertainty, he'd decided to bid his time then. And, once he was sure, he'd make his approach.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
If only he could peer into that little head of yours, then perhaps it would make things easier. It would be over in the snap of a finger. A peek into your mind, and all the information he needed would be within his grasp.
Things were never that easy for him, unfortunately.
So, Henry, ever-patient, had taken to observing you whenever you were slated for duty in the same shift as him, something that he was sure Dr. Brenner had a hand in. He was almost certain that the old fox had pulled some strings, for you'd been making an appearance around him more often than not, despite the highly regulated scheduling the place was run on.
Few things happened here by chance, and even fewer things were left to coincidence. That being said, he didn't like how the doctor seemed to be toying with him, leaving him to wait and ponder when the other shoe would drop.
He'd notice your gaze on him when you thought he wasn't looking. But Henry was observant. Of course, he was. He was watching you, wasn't he?
It'd happen every once in a while, where he'd tilt his head in question with a helpless smile on his face in response. To which you'd quickly avert your eyes, embarrassed at having been caught; the way your cheeks coloured prettily at being caught red-handed never failing to elicit a chuckle from him.
And as Henry stood, collecting all the pieces of the puzzle and slowly drawing the lines to his own conclusions, it all seemed to lead to the same answer. The similarities that had overlapped with his findings were hard to ignore, but denial was man's greatest foe, and just this once, he turned the other way.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
It wasn't until you got into an altercation with one of the kids that he'd finally seen the truth.
You'd been flung into a wall, hard, and he’d been there to witness it all go down. He watched with mute horror as you were sent careening into a wall of solid concrete with a pained yelp.
It had spurred him to action, moving swiftly to restrain the child that had lashed out in a fit of… What had it been again? Rage? Annoyance? Pain? He didn’t know. But it didn’t matter as he quickly crossed the distance between him and the child in long strides to immobilize them, arms winding around the failing limbs that reached out for him with vicious intent.
Distance that you’d created by putting yourself in the path of danger— by throwing yourself in front of him. An action that had caught him off-guard, if the minute flash of fear in your eyes hadn’t.
He should’ve shoved you out of the way. But the split-second he’d been distracted was all it took for the psychic force intended for him to slam into you as the child’s telekinetic powers took hold, reducing you into a little more than a puppet to their whims.
Stubborn, reckless, willful… Impulsive.
You had always been the impulsive one between the two of you, hadn’t you? It was how you’d met.
He'd been hesitant, your name at the tip of his tongue.
No, it couldn’t be… right?
Then, he'd caught sight of it— a definite answer that he couldn’t turn away from, as you lay crumpled on the ground, either unconscious or winded from the impact. A thin silvery thing that peeked out of your collar almost mockingly at him.
The recognition that flashed in his eyes was instantaneous. And just like that, whatever hesitation he had shattered like fractured glass.
He knew it for what it was, for he'd wounded you once in that exact same spot. An injury that would scar.
How had he not seen it sooner?
Two things hit him at once. First, the horrifying thought of you actually being here in real flesh and blood, and not as a figment of his imagination. And second, the fact that you'd just impulsively thrown yourself before him without a second thought.
No one did that. Not here. Not anywhere. And most certainly, not for him.
It was an entirely foolish thing to do, and he would have laughed at that, had it not been for the fact that you probably hadn't known better.
The children here wouldn't be able to do anything that hadn't already been done to him, but you didn't know that, did you?
The lights overhead flickered as he glanced down at the struggling child within his grasp, powerless and unarmed. No hands, no psychic waving about, no power.
He didn’t like doing this, knowing what lay in wait for them once Dr. Brenner came striding through the doors, but for once, he thinks it deserved.
“Enough.” He hissed, tightening his hold around the child’s smaller frame. “Stop this foolishness before more damage is done.”
He knew that it would be soon, as the doctor always made a personal appearance whenever things went awry. And, just like clockwork, the doors swung open moments later, but it wasn't the doctor like he'd been expecting. Instead, two orderlies walked in.
They were armed, he noted, spotting the sheathed shock batons hanging from their belts as they approached.
“We'll take it from here. Dr. Brenner's orders.” One of the orderlies said, signaling for him to let go of his charge, which he instantly acquiesced to.
“Do you need a medic?” The other orderly inquired upon spotting you a distance away.
Henry followed his gaze to where you were currently half-standing and half-leaning against the wall you'd been flung into earlier, somewhere between picking yourself up and slumping back down.
“No, I'll handle it.” He said, watching as the other orderly nodded before leaving the room after they'd finished assessing the damage caused by the little incident, scribbling notes in a notepad as they went.
The moment the doors swung shut with finality was the moment he'd immediately turned on his heel, his attention zeroing in on you.
You were conscious then. Good, he wanted answers.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Henry had brought you to the infirmary despite your insistence that you were fine. An argument that was instantly shot down the moment he'd caught you as you nearly toppled back down moments after assuring him otherwise.
“I can have myself checked out.” You pointed out.
“Sit.” Was all he’d said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he firmly seated you down.
“I’m fine, Peter. Just a bump is all.” You sighed, but it was clear that he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer with the way the pressure on your shoulder increased.
The nurse was out again, so here you sat, perched atop a stool as he gently felt around your head, feeling out any bumps you might have sustained from the fall.
And as his fingers roamed with purpose, he wondered if his first meeting with you here, when he’d been sent to the infirmary to get his wound checked, had been staged.
Had it just been a play of power to show him that they had another pawn to hold over his head? To let him know that his disobedience had a price, even though he already knew that better than most?
The doctor would have known who you were, no doubt, given that he'd asked about you once in his youth. And if anything, he knew Dr. Brenner was thorough in everything he did. He would've dug up every bit of information he could find on you. Plus, he had eyes everywhere in the lab, knew the rotations in and out, and all personnel like the back of his hand. The lab was his playhouse, and you, unfortunately, were stuck in it, just like he was.
“You got off easy, from the looks of it. Just a nasty bruise or three.” He concluded after a while, but his hands remained as his attention shifted.
His fingers moved lower, resting on the back of your neck as his thumb brushed against the scar, raising goosebumps along your skin. It had healed well over time, he noted, leaving only a faint and slightly raised mark to show the wound that had once been there.
“So…” He started, noticing the way you’d instinctively stiffened at the gesture.
You were just about to jerk yourself away from his hold when the firm mention of your name stopped you in your tracks. You froze as icy blue eyes locked firmly onto yours.
“Were you ever going to tell me, or was I supposed to figure it out myself?” His voice was quiet, almost level in intonation, but you could tell from the way his fingers pressed down that he was anything but.
You swallowed thickly, casting your gaze to the ground. Towards his meticulously shined shoes. Immaculate, like the rest of him. Just like Dr. Brenner’s had been. You could see where he picked that up from.
“What good would it do?”
What good would it have done, indeed.
“I could've prevented the entire incident from happening.” His words were bitter, angry. Both at you, and himself.
Nothing. There was nothing he could have done if he were being truthful with himself.
“Flinging yourself in front of me? What sort of self-sacrificial idiot does that?” He hissed, eyes narrowing as his frustration was delivered in a single snipping comment.
You, apparently. Because you’d finally found him after years of searching in vain. Because of a hope you’d been too stubborn to let go of.
“And what? Did you have a better solution?” You'd challenged him, eyes glinting with the same stubbornness he'd missed.
Except, he couldn't find it in himself to appreciate it now, with the current circumstances.
“You're as helpless as I am here, Henry. Admit it.” You jabbed a finger at him in accusation.
He scowled. You were right, and he knew it just as well. But unbeknownst to you, he was planting seeds. Seeds that would one day sprout, and hopefully, something would come out of his efforts.
“I know what you did to those upperclassmen back then.” A moment of silence lapsed before you continued in a slightly rueful manner, “but without your mind-bending abilities, you're just as human as I am, aren’t you?”
Human? What normal person, pray tell, was able to read minds, warp perception, and bend reality to their will?
“Am I?” He scoffed.
“I've seen you levitate rocks, Henry. I'm not stupid. I know what I saw, even if Dr. Brenner hadn’t told me about it when I ended up here."
He narrowed his eyes. You knew about his abilities? Though not entirely, it seemed. If you’d known what he was truly capable of, then perhaps you wouldn’t have pulled the stunt that you did.
He knew the doctor was somehow involved in your involvement; he just didn’t know the whys and the hows behind it all. And it appears that Dr. Brenner hadn't been entirely truthful with you, if he had even been at all about how he could snap necks with a mere twitch, rending limbs and flesh with a single focused thought— violence, that came to him as simple and natural as breathing.
The anger of being kept in the dark flared through his veins as he entertained the thought of ripping the doctor to shreds, as always. But it faded soon after, for he knew that if it hadn’t been for him, he would never have understood his capabilities as well as he did now. Then, it morphed into a slow ebb and flow of sadness when he knew that you were doomed to the same fate as him, stuck in this prison.
And as he mulled over his thoughts, unmoving, you took his silence as permission to continue.
"Why do you think I'm here, Henry?" You’d laughed then, bitter in a way he’d never thought he’d ever come to associate with you.
"I knew you were out there somewhere, so I looked into it. The more I looked, the more questions arose, so I went around to your place to see if I could find anything that might have been left behind.” You shook your head as you continued, almost wry as you spoke. “Some agents caught me sneaking around the area a couple of years ago. I guess they had it under surveillance, which would make sense. Next thing I knew, they’d knocked me out, and I’d woken up in a room with a gun pointed at me.”
“That's when I knew that I was in over my head, and whatever you were involved in was clearly not something I should've been poking my nose into. But by then, it was already too late.”
You’d looked up at him then. “He forced me to make a choice. I think you know the rest.”
“Be a willing accomplice to the doctor’s sick little game or get your brains blown out?” Henry scoffed at how typical it was. It hadn’t been the first time that Dr. Brenner had pulled something like that.
But why had you even been looking for him in the first place?
“So here I am, playing nurse, orderly, whatever he wants me to be. And… it looks like I found you, after all.”
You’d taken a deep breath then, shaken despite how the incident had transpired years ago. You thought that you'd have gotten over it by now— the results of your own actions. After all, hadn’t you gotten what you wanted in the end? Just not in the way you’d imagined.
“A nurse?” Henry had laughed, a small mocking sound. He was almost hysterical at your luck. You'd been so, so lucky. And you didn't have a clue. “And what gave you the idea that I was still alive? I was told that I'd been proclaimed dead to the world.”
You'd pulled out a paper spider from one of your pockets then, wrinkled and creased from the many times you'd thumbed over its edges.
A piece of craftwork, and a reminder so foolish he could cry.
"All this over a spider?"
“—He could've made you a test subject.” He said after a moment’s silence, almost as if afraid to broach the subject.
“And do you know what happens to test subjects that fail to adapt?” He continued, in a solemn tone that you'd never heard him take.
Henry had seen the adverse reactions some subjects had to the original experiments. And if the other conditions they had been put through hadn't killed you then, he was almost certain that the blood and the psychedelics would. His blood, otherworldly and corrosive as it flared through your veins, destroying you from within if the medicine hadn't driven you to insanity first.
And that had only been a fraction of what he knew of the experiments that truly went on in this institution. Who knew what else they had hidden down in the labyrinths of the lab?
Or, worse. He dreaded thinking of the possibility that they could have just as easily made him kill you in a test of his abilities, disguised as yet another experiment. He'd be none the wiser until he saw the body once it’d been wheeled out of the room. And by then…
“They die a death so horrific that a gun would seem sweet in comparison." He whispered a truth so chilling that it sent a shiver right through you.
The way his voice had wavered struck something deep within you. The weight of your actions, so natural at the time, seemed to now weigh like a ton of bricks atop his conscience.
If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have left you that little trinket. And although a part of him was dismayed that his suspicions had turned out to be true, a small part of him was happy you were here, twisted as it was, no matter how much he wished you weren't.
“Reckless little fool.”
You could feel the slight tremor of his hand as he pulled you closer, his words dripping with harsh disapproval. But you could tell that there was no real bite behind his bark. If anything, it'd come off as a little self-depreciating on his part, as if he'd blamed himself for letting this happen in the first place.
Even so, he could do with a familiar face in the spiral of madness. Or company, really. He did wish that times were as simple as it was back then, but now that you were both at the mercy of whatever the scientists in this lab had planned… He’ll just have to do his best to keep you out of harm’s way.
“We’ll have to get a handle on your recklessness, won’t we?” He said, drawing away soon after, but you could see the reluctance in his eyes, so you took his hand into yours, rubbing soothing circles into it.
His fingers curled around yours, reminiscent of the handshake you’d once exchanged. Except now, he wasn’t in any hurry to let go. He wonders then, if both of you would ever be free of this forsaken place. But until then, at least you had each other.
And Henry? Oh, he wasn't letting go of you this time.
GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.
Ji Hyeok is the only male lead ever cause his gaze is almost always filled with so much lust and yearning and he looks at her like she invented the sun while my girl is just there leaving the shower like this:
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
areudirty
dededos
izzy806
